


Seven Years Too Late

by UppiePuppy



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, B.A.P - Freeform, BangDae - Freeform, Brotp, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Due to the authors amazing skillz, Fluff, Hitman Jongup, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I borrowed a friend's OC btw, I need therapy, Jongup is Daehyun's little brother, Like really sick, Mafia AU, Matoki - Freeform, Momchan, OTP Feels, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jongup, Rating may move to Mature later on, Seriously tho Himchan is great, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, There will be violence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Youngjae is sick, Youngup brotp, best absolute perfect - Freeform, but so much fluff, himup - Freeform, kind of I think, like HELLA SLOW, mentions of abuse, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UppiePuppy/pseuds/UppiePuppy
Summary: ***FULL SUMMARY INSIDE***“So?”Jongup glanced down, tangling his fingers in Youngjae’s hair and scratching gently at his scalp. “So what?”Youngjae sighed contentedly at the feeling, pressing into Jongup’s hand slightly and not missing the younger boy’s smile of amusement. “So? Are you going to take the job?”Jongup’s smile dropped into a frown and he glanced toward the closet. Youngjae remained silent, waiting for him to speak. Finally, after several long moments, Jongup took a deep breath and nodded. “I am,” he said surely. Youngjae smiled slightly, wrapping his arms around Jongup’s waist and giggling.“Seoul, here we come.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Jung Jongup was ten when his mother died. They're not sure what happened. Something to do with her lungs. Regardless, it had only been a few months, just after he turned eleven, before he and his big brother, Daehyun, were forced to leave behind everything they'd ever known- Junhonggie, Himchannie-hyung, Yongguk-hyung, Seoul- and move into a tiny house in a tiny village.
> 
> He was twelve when Daehyun left with a promise to return for him as soon as he could. He met Youngjae, who would soon become the best friend he'd ever have. Even as his life began to fall apart before his very eyes, he kept his hope. Daehyun would be back for him. He made a promise, after all, and Daehyun NEVER broke his promises.
> 
> He was fourteen when Youngjae got hurt. He got hurt so badly that Jongup feared he wouldn't ever be able to get back up. His best friend was orphaned, injured, and abandoned. That was when he began to feel it. The festering rage. The terrible fear. The constant worry. The hope he still held in his heart was dimming. Surely... Surely Daehyun would come for them soon.
> 
> He was fifteen when he began to get desperate. His part-time job at the little corner shop down the street just wasn't cutting it. Bills were piling up, and he had to go to bed hungry more often than not. It was up to him to look after Youngjae now. He couldn't count on his good-for-nothing father to do it. The hope he held onto began to turn to rage.
> 
> He was nineteen when things finally began to turn around. All of his hard work had finally begun to pay off. His father couldn’t control him anymore. Not for lack of trying, of course. He finally got the offer of a lifetime. The offer he’d been chasing for years. Saying yes meant a new beginning. It meant being able to take care of Youngjae. It meant security and respect. Everything they ever wanted- everything they ever needed- was right there in front of them. Their new lives were exciting and new, and his past would never again need plague him.
> 
> Or, at least, that’s what he’d thought.

“There. All better, right?”

The boy sat back on his heels, smiling softly at his teary-eyed younger brother. A large bandage stretched over his shoulder, with stains of red already piercing the white fabric. The elder’s smile flickered as the sound of a shattering glass echoed through the rickety old house. After a beat of silence, a choked sob tore through the air, and the teen dropped all pretense of cheeriness, pulling his brother into his arms and holding him close. 

 

“Jongup-ah,” he whispered. “It’s alright. He’ll be in bed soon, it’s alright.”

 

Jongup shook his head with a whimper, clutching at the fabric beneath his fingers. “Hyung,” he gasped. His tears wet Daehyun’s shirt, staining the already dirty clothing. Footsteps approaching their door silenced both of them, Jongup muffling his cries in Daehyun’s chest. A fist pounded on their door, a booming voice, hoarse and raspy from overuse, demanding that it be opened. 

 

Jongup squeaked as he was roughly shoved into the back of the closet. “No! Daehyunnie don’t-!” 

 

Daehyun’s normally warm brown eyes were cold as he shook his head and hissed at him to be quiet. Before he could protest, darkness pressed in as the false wall was replaced. Jongup waited with baited breath, afraid to move in case he made any sound, as he heard the bedroom door open and those dreaded footsteps move into the room. 

“Where is he?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Daehyun’s voice was harsh and emotionless, and so unlike his usual tone that Jongup whimpered and pressed himself further into his little cave. 

“Don’t you lie to me, boy.” The distinct thud of a body hitting the floor echoed through the room and Jongup clapped his hands over his ears, though it did nothing to muffle the sounds coming from only a few meters away. “Where did you hide the brat, huh?” 

 

“I sent him to play with Soojung!” Now he sounded pained. Jongup shook his head and tangled his fingers in his hair.

“Daehyunnie…” he whimpered.

“Soojung, ey?” There was another thud and a harsh cry from Daehyun. “Call him home.” 

“Haven't you caused enough damage for one day?” Another thud. This one was louder. Daehyun groaned and coughed.

_ “Call him home.” _

The footsteps retreated into the hall again and the door slammed shut, shaking the wall Jongup was pressed against. 

Long moments passed in silence, and Jongup remained completely still and silent.  _ I need to be good. I'll be good for hyung.  _ He flinched at the sound of another door slamming somewhere in the house. Still, he did not move. Finally, as he was beginning to fall asleep, a sliver of light invaded his vision. He blinked himself awake and unraveled his stiff limbs.

 

“Jonguppie?” At the sound of Daehyun’s tired voice, Jongup immediately crawled forward, tears racing down his cheeks as he threw himself into his brother’s arms. 

“Hyung,” he whimpered. Daehyun hissed in pain, causing Jongup to pull away with a gasp. Daehyun’s face was bruised and bloody, one of his eyes already swelling shut and the rest of his face covered in splotchy patches of red, some already turning a nasty shade of purple. Jongup’s eyes narrowed and he scrambled out of Daehyun's lap to get their first aid kit. 

He hid his surprise when Daehyun didn't protest as he pulled open the bag and began to apply ointments and bandages to the worst of his wounds.

“One day,” he began quietly, “we’ll be far away from here. We can get a house, and dad won't be able to hurt either of us ever again.”

Daehyun's eyes flashed and a shadow of sadness overcame his face. “Jongup-”

“Everything will be great, hyung! We can talk to Junhong-ah and Yongguk-hyung and Himchan-hyung whenever we want. We can have warm dinners. We can-”

_ “Jongup.”  _

Daehyun's voice was stern, and Jongup froze at the sound of it, looking up at his brother in silence. He blinked slowly when he saw tears in Daehyun's eyes. What was going on?

“Jongup, in a month’s time I'll be eighteen,” he said quietly.

Jongup frowned. “I don't understand. What does that have to do with-”

“I'm going back to Seoul.”

Jongup stared in silence for a moment, disbelief coursing through his veins. “What?”

 

Daehyun reached forward and took his hands, gazing intently into his eyes. Distantly, Jongup noticed that he was shaking. “I’m going to go back to Seoul,” he repeated. “I’m going to move into an apartment with Yongguk-hyung and Himchan-hyung and go to college. I’ll get a job-” Jongup pulled away from his brother, shaking his head with a sob. Daehyun followed him, desperation seeping into his tone. “I’ll get a job, and once I have enough money I’ll come back for you!” He reached out and forced the younger boy into a hug, his own tears falling onto the bandages that covered both of them. “I’ll come back for you, Uppie! I  _ promise  _ I’ll come back!”

 

Jongup sobbed, going limp in Daehyun’s arms and clutching his shirt tightly, stretching out the fabric. “Don’t l-leave me he-ere,” he whimpered. “Hyu-ung, p-please!” 

 

Daehyun sighed and buried his face in Jongup’s hair. “Uppie, I  _ have  _ to,” he murmured. “It’s the only way you’ll ever get away from him.” Jongup shook his head harshly, pressing himself impossibly closer to the elder. “It will only take a year, Uppie. Two, at most,” Daehyun pleaded. “I said I’d come back for you, and I will! Have I ever broken a promise?” He paused for a few moments, listening as Jongup’s sobs died down to small sniffles. “How about it? Have I ever broken a promise to you, Jonguppie?” After a beat of silence, Jongup shook his head and relaxed his grip and Daehyun let out a breath of relief, pulling away far enough to lean his forehead against Jongup’s and catch his gaze. Two sets of identical dark brown eyes met, both shining with emotion. 

 

“How will I know you got to the city safely?” Jongup whispered. His lower lip shook and he bit down on it, rolling it between his teeth in anxiety. 

 

Daehyun smiled fondly and reached up to pull his lip free. “Stop it,” he scolded gently. “I don’t know, Uppie. I’ll…” He trailed off for a moment, tracing his thumbs over the backs of Jongup’s hands thoughtfully. “You know the Yoo family, down the street?” When Jongup nodded, he continued on. “They have a son about your age. I don’t remember his name, but if you can become friends with him, you won’t feel so alone. I’ll send a letter to their home the moment I get settled in with the hyungs in Seoul, okay?” 

 

Jongup was silent for several minutes, staring down at their entwined hands with tears falling from his eyes. 

 

“Hey.” Daehyun gently cupped Jongup’s cheek and tilted his head up until their gazes met once more. “I won’t forget my promise. You know that.” He pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and pulled him into another hug. “I’ll come back for you soon, Uppie. Let’s just enjoy our last few weeks together, yah?”

 

Jongup looked down once more as he slowly nodded against Daehyun’s shoulder.

 

“I love you, Jonguppie-ah,” Daehyun said quietly, running his hand up and down Jongup’s back soothingly. Without a moment’s pause, Jongup squeezed his eyes shut and nestled closer to Daehyun. 

 

“I love you too, hyung.”

 

**_7 years later_ **

 

Jongup, now a young man, limped up the stairs in his house, ignoring his father’s shouts for him to come back down. He was too drunk to do much, anyways. He tried the doorknob and sighed, with relief or frustration he wasn’t sure, when he found it locked. With a cursory glance down the hall, he lifted his fist and knocked four times, twice slowly and twice quickly. After a few moments of silence, he heard the slow, dragging footsteps he had come to recognize. The click of the lock sounded and the door was opened a crack. Jongup smiled slightly at the face that appeared and the door opened completely, revealing a small, frail-looking boy in a dirty yellow sweater that hung off his frame. Jongup hurried into the room and closed the door again, locking it before turning to his companion.

 

“Youngjae-ssi, are you alright?” 

 

Youngjae smiled brightly at Jongup and held out his arms. “Just fine,” he reassured. “A little wobbly, though. Could you help?” 

 

Without a word, Jongup leaned forward and picked Youngjae up, carrying him bridal-style to the bed with ease. He set him down on the bedsheets and helped him pull the blankets up over his legs before sitting at the foot of the bed and crossing his legs to face him.

 

“How was work?” Youngjae asked quietly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. 

 

Jongup’s eyes flashed and his muscles tensed. “It was fine,” he said slowly. He suddenly fixed Youngjae with an intense gaze, as if willing him to understand what he was saying. “I was paid very well today, and the boss thinks I’m ready for a promotion.”

 

Youngjae frowned, his eyebrows drawing together and his fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Promotion? What kind of-” Suddenly, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  _ “Promotion?”  _ he gasped. “Are you- Are you sure that’s what was said?”

 

Jongup nodded, relaxing slightly as he noted Youngjae’s excitement. “Certain,” he said in confirmation. Youngjae gasped again and clapped his hands over his face, breathless laughter escaping him. “They said that my skills are wasted here, and the head of the department is retiring anyways. There are a couple of lower-downs who will take over for me here.” He paused, his small smile growing just a bit bigger and his eyes sparkling like they hadn’t done in years. “I’m going to have to work a lot more,” he warned, “but it’ll be worth it. I’m going to be paid enough to get you your treatment, Youngjae.” The other peeked out at his friend from between his fingers, his eyes shining with tears. “I’ll be able to send you to a good school. I can keep you  _ safe. _ We can be  _ happy, _ Youngjae.”

 

He cut off with a grunt as Youngjae launched himself across the bed and enveloped him in a tight hug, trembling. Jongup didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, burying his face in the yellow sweater and taking a deep breath. “We’re moving to Seoul in a week,” he murmured. 

 

He yelped as Youngjae pulled away swiftly, hitting their heads together in his haste.  _ “Seoul?”  _ he hissed. “But what about-”

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jongup interrupted. His eyes flashed dangerously, his voice dropping to a low, icy tone. “Seoul holds half of the country’s population. The chances of us running into any of  _ them _ are practically nonexistent.”

 

Youngjae seemed doubtful, but let the matter go, instead leaning in and resting his head on Jongup’s chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “So?”

 

Jongup glanced down, tangling his fingers in Youngjae’s hair and scratching gently at his scalp. “So what?”

 

Youngjae sighed contentedly at the feeling, pressing into Jongup’s hand slightly and not missing the younger boy’s smile of amusement. “So? Are you going to take the job?”

 

Jongup’s smile dropped into a frown and he glanced toward the closet. Youngjae remained silent, waiting for him to speak. Finally, after several long moments, Jongup took a deep breath and nodded. “I am,” he said surely. Youngjae smiled slightly, wrapping his arms around Jongup’s waist and giggling. 

 

“Seoul, here we come.”


	2. Two and Four

Jongup grunted as he pulled the final box from his small, rusted old car. He glanced in at Youngjae and hummed, looking from him to the door. “Do you think you can get inside?” he asked. “I’ll help you up the rest of the way, I just need to get this in first.” He nodded toward the box and rose an eyebrow. Youngjae craned his neck to look around him and then nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile as he reached for the door handle.

 

“I should be fine,” he agreed, pushing open the door. Jongup nodded, biting his lip softly, and turned to hurry back inside. The doorman helped him through, and Jongup thanked him with a stiff nod, rushing toward the elevator. One long ride up later and he was balancing the heavy box on one hand and opening the door to their new ‘apartment’. He stepped inside and carried the box toward the stairs, setting it down on a small bookshelf beside them. He glanced around the home and sighed before swiftly making his way back downstairs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Youngjae casually leaning against the wall in the lobby. Only he could detect the signs of his struggle; His shaking legs, his slightly labored breathing, the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. Plastering on a smile, Jongup approached his roommate and slung an arm around his shoulders.

 

He didn’t miss the small, grateful smile sent his way. While to others it may look like a little bit of casual contact between friends, Youngjae could feel the tensed muscles and firm grip that Jongup had on him, and he appreciated the support it provided him, making their journey much easier. The two reached the elevator quickly and Jongup hit the button for the top floor, letting go of Youngjae to let him lean against the wall. They chatted aimlessly on their way up, wondering about the house, the job, and their new lives in general. Soon enough, there was a quiet ‘ding’, and the doors slid open. Jongup smiled softly and held out his arms, letting Youngjae step into them before scooping him up and carrying him down the hall to one of the two doors on the floor.

 

Once they made it inside, Jongup set Youngjae back on his feet and placed their keycard on the table beside the door. He slid his shoes off of his feet and placed them beneath the same table before assisting Youngjae with his.

 

“This place is…” Youngjae trailed off, his eyes wide as he looked around at the fancy apartment.

 

“Flashy and, frankly, unnecessary.”

 

“I was _going_ to say awesome.”

 

Jongup stepped into the large living room and pulled open one of the boxes, shifting some clothing around before pulling Youngjae’s wheelchair out from the bottom. He unfolded it and locked everything in place before stepping back so that Youngjae could sit down. The man sighed in relief as the pressure was taken off his legs and immediately gripped the wheels, beginning to navigate their new home with ease. Jongup shook his head and followed him, helping him with anything he needed but letting him take the lead as they explored the house. They left no corner untouched, investigating every last inch of the ground floor. Finally, they came to a short hallway tucked away in the back. Youngjae furrowed his brow, confusion etched into his features, but Jongup gave a small, contented smile. Only two doors were in the hallway, only a few feet apart from each other. Jongup reached for the doorknob of the first door. The click of a lock sounded, and he stepped into the room. Youngjae didn’t seem excited as he followed, but his eyes widened as they passed through the door.

 

The walls were painted a soothing shade of green, a nice contrast to the rest of the completely white house, and it had all the modern comforts Jongup would ever find himself in need of and more. Youngjae pushed himself toward the bed and set a hand on the gray comforter with a soft sigh. “It’s so nice,” he breathed. Jongup laughed and spun around in the middle of the room, getting out his jitters with quick and erratic movements while Youngjae investigated all of his belongings.

 

“Jongup-ah, there’s a note for you!” Youngjae called. He held out a dark green, shimmery envelope, lined with silver, and waited for Jongup to take it before continuing on in his curiosity.

 

Jongup sat on the large bed- too large for just one person- and slit open the envelope, slipping out the folded square of paper inside, and proceeded to open that paper as well. His gaze caught on the handwriting inside, immediately recognizing it as the handwriting of the one who had offered his promotion, and he began to read.

 

_Mr. Moon._

 

_It is my pleasure to bring you to the top ranks of the Matoki. As you have been told, your skills are unprecedented and invaluable. For your services, I hope you do not mind this token of our gratitude. You will find everything you need in their designated places, and everything of importance is accessible to Mr. Yoo._

 

_I wish to welcome you to our organization personally, and thus ask you to kindly join me and a few of those who will be your closest colleagues for a dinner at the Golden Harvest Hotel, top floor dining room, eight o’clock. You will, of course, be allowed to wear your usual mask, but I must ask that you wear the formal attire provided to you, found in your closet._

 

_No weapons check will be performed._

 

_~Mato_

 

Jongup’s eyes widened. Mato? Was he to have a dinner with the boss of the entire organization?

 

“Jongup? Bad news?” Youngjae’s voice was concerned, and Jongup quickly jumped to reassure him.

 

“No! No, of course not.” He laughed breathlessly and held out the letter. “I’ve been invited to dinner.” Youngjae took the letter and glanced over it quickly, a small smile overtaking his features.

 

“This is-” He looked up, laughing happily. “This is great, Jongup!” He set the card down carefully and then grabbed his wheels, speeding out of the room and sharply turning into the hall. Jongup yelped and scrambled after him. “Come on! I want to see my room, too!”

 

The next room was obviously Youngjae’s. Painted a bright, sunny yellow and decorated with small plushies and beautiful paintings, it radiated an aura of hope and joy. Jongup grinned as he looked around. The bedspread and decorations were white, and though the room was happy, it also held an irrefutable element of intelligence. Something about the well-placed decorations and furniture making it seem able to double as a study. And indeed, an entire corner was decorated with textbooks and albums catered toward an aspiring psychology student. Youngjae clapped his hands delightedly as he caught sight of the high-tech desktop and laptop resting atop a large desk. He moved toward it and reached out to gently touch the pure white desk, as if afraid he might stain it if he let his touch linger for too long. He looked up, and Jongup was baffled at the tears in his eyes.

 

“Jae? What’s wrong?”

 

Youngjae shook his head. “Nothing’s _wrong,”_ he said quietly. “I just- It’s so much! And I-” He huffed and folded his arms. “I can’t make it up the stairs today. So you go explore that while I shower.” He didn’t seem upset, instead looking quite excited to be the first to try the shower.

 

Jongup snorted and clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright,” he agreed. “You have fun in there.” Youngjae shouted and threw the nearest plushie at him as he ducked out of the room, laughing. With a grin splitting his features, Jongup made his way up the stairs and onto the small second floor of their home. Curiously, he reached for the only door he could see, opening it slowly. As the room came into view, he gasped and froze in the doorway. Two of the walls were nothing but glass, a stunning view of the skyline surrounding him. The room seemed to cover the entire floor, and it had been turned into a beautiful state-of-the-art gym. Jongup clapped his hands together and stepped forward, staring around in awe at the stunning equipment. He made his way toward the middle of the room, where a punching bag hung from the ceiling over a square platform obviously made for sparring. Jongup laughed breathlessly and ran his hand over the leather of the punching bag, reveling in the feel of it, so smooth and unblemished, not worn from years of use.

 

After one last look, he moved on from the bag, moving toward a wall with targets on it. To his left was a table with knives neatly organized on its surface. Jongup grinned and reached forward to pick up a sleek silver blade. He ran his fingers over the razor sharp edge for a few moments before setting it back in place and moving on. One end of the gym had been converted to a dance studio, and a small corner had physical therapy equipment that- Jongup happily noted- could be used to help Youngjae’s legs.

 

Thoroughly satisfied with his investigation of the upper floor, Jongup moved quickly back down the stairs and into the living room, where he paused to look around again and run his fingers through his hair.

 

“So? What’s up there?”

 

Jongup didn’t seem surprised as Youngjae’s voice suddenly echoed around the home as he wheeled himself around the corner. He turned to look at the elder and smiled. “It’s a gym,” he chirped. “A full gym!”  

 

Youngjae snorted and wheeled himself into the kitchen, where he began to dig around through the drawers. “They must really like you,” he commented, pulling a granola bar out of a box and unwrapping it with a satisfied hum. Jongup nodded once and sent a quick glance toward the front door. “Go take a shower. It’s amazing!”

 

Youngjae’s eyes shone as he watched Jongup walk away. His brown hair was still wet from his own shower, and he had gotten dressed in a soft white turtleneck sweater and some gray sweatpants he’d found in his closet, opting to just throw away his old clothes. He chewed his granola bar slowly and gripped the wheels of his chair, pushing himself back into the living room and toward the large wall of windows overlooking the Seoul skyline.

 

 _How did we get here?_ he asked himself silently. He knew it was no thanks to himself. Only days ago, they had been living in a tiny wooden house in one of the smallest fishing villages in the country with an abusive man holding an iron fist around both them and their freedom. It was only thanks to Jongup that they had even survived. Youngjae’s smile faltered, slipping into a small frown as he sat there. He wasn’t stupid- He knew that Jongup hated his job. He knew what his friend had to do to bring in money. He knew, even, some of the things he’d had to do in the past to make sure they would make it through the week.

 

Just as the familiar guilt and self-hatred was beginning to creep up, there came a knock on the door. Youngjae glanced up, surprised, and began to make his way to the front of the home. He hesitated in front of the door, his hand resting on the doorknob, but not turning it. He sent a long glance back toward the bathroom, where he could hear water still running. Jongup would hate it if he opened the door without him, but he couldn’t exactly leave whoever it was standing on their doorstep. With a deep breath, Youngjae opened the door, expertly maneuvering his chair out of it’s path. He peered upward, blinking slowly. Two men stood there, one taller than the other.

 

“...Hello,” Youngjae greeted cautiously. He noticed the tall one’s brief surprise as he caught sight of his chair, and he narrowed his eyes, his gaze becoming sharp and guarded. “Did you need something?”

 

The tall one smiled brightly and held out a hand for Youngjae to shake. “Hi! I live next door, and I thought I’d come introduce myself after seeing you move in!” Youngjae ignored the proffered hand, instead only shifting his gaze to the other man. He said nothing, only raised an eyebrow before looking back to the tall one, who now seemed distinctly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand back, awkwardly stuffing it into his pocket. “Is your, um, friend here?”

 

Youngjae sent him an appraising look for a moment before shrugging. “He’s in the shower right now,” he said stiffly. The new neighbor made a small sound of acknowledgment and shifted his feet, looking anywhere but at him. His friend rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through his phone. After only a few moments of tense silence, Youngjae sighed and pushed himself back a few inches, plastering a tight-lipped smile onto his face. He was sure it looked forced and tense, but the other seemed to relax at the sight of it. “I’m sorry. The stress of moving must be getting to me. Would you like to come in?”

 

With a too-quick nod, the tall man stepped in, his friend following close behind. Youngjae closed the door and led the two into the immaculate living room. “Would you like anything to drink?” He quickly received two negatives, and he shrugged as he gestured for them to take a seat. “My roommate should be out in only a few minutes,” he said. He knew by their faces that they noticed the way he avoided saying Jongup’s name, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care very much.

 

“Where are you moving from?” The tall man asked quietly.

 

Youngjae pursed his lips. “Dongpo,” he said.

 

The black-haired man on the other end of the couch looked up curiously, tucking away his phone. “I have a friend who lived there for a while,” he said. “It’s a very small town, isn’t it?” Youngjae hummed in confirmation. “How long did you live down there?”

 

Youngjae was quiet for a few moments before answering. “I lived there my whole life. My roommate moved there when he was eleven, following some… unfortunate circumstances,” he said. His tone invited no more questions, but his posture was much more relaxed than it had been before. Noticing that the shower water had been turned off, he leaned forward a bit. “I’m sorry, did I get your names?”

 

“Oh!” The tall man stood quickly and bowed. “Excuse my manners! I’m Choi Junhong, and this is my friend, Kim Himchan.” When he stood once more, confusion overtook his features. Youngjae’s face had drained of color, and his hands were shaking as he stared at the two. “Um, are you-”

 

“You need to leave,” Youngjae snapped suddenly. His expression was panicked as he gestured them toward the door. “You need to go. _Now.”_

 

“I don’t understand.” Junhong glanced toward the door and then back to Youngjae, though he obediently began to make his way out. Himchan jumped to his feet and hurried away, seeming to catch on to some hidden message. “What’s going on? Why do we have to leave so suddenly?”

 

Youngjae let out a small sound of distress as he heard soft footsteps coming down the hall. “There’s no time to explain! Just-”

 

“Youngjae-hyung? Who is this?”

 

Youngjae cursed under his breath and turned around with a wide smile. “The neighbors! They dropped by to say hello. They were just leaving!”

 

Junhong’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the newcomer. His dark brown hair hung in front of his face, and a very familiar pair of brown eyes peered at him from an angular face. The man wore nothing but a pair of low-cut black jeans, his chiseled torso on display with a towel thrown over his shoulders. Junhong’s gaze caught on the scars littering his skin, lingering just a bit too long on a particularly nasty one on his hip that disappeared around the bend of his waist.

 

“Oh? I hope you weren’t planning on letting them go without introducing me first.” A sweet smile rested on the man’s face. He didn’t seem intimidating in the least, yet Youngjae was fidgeting nervously in his place.

 

“Well, see-”

 

“What are their names?” The man interrupted. Youngjae flinched and looked down at his lap. Junhong frowned. Just what was going on?

 

“Um…” Youngjae hesitated for a long moment. “This is our neighbor, Choi Junhong. His friend is Kim Himchan.”

 

All of a sudden, the room felt icy cold. Junhong was unsure what exactly had changed, but something about the man’s kind smile had turned dangerous. After several moments of tense silence, Junhong let out a small sound of nervousness and fell into a perfect ninety-degree bow.

 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he said hurriedly. “We were just on our way out. Sorry to disturb you.”

 

“Nonsense.” Junhong stood, his eyes wide, only to be faced with the same cold smile and an extended hand. “It’s always nice to make new… friends… in an unfamiliar place. Please, call me Jung.”

 

Junhong quickly took the offered hand and shook it once. “Of course!” He smiled wide and stepped back, allowing Himchan to step forward and shake Jung’s hand. The two shared a long look, and something like sadness flashed in Himchan’s gaze.

 

“You look remarkably similar to a friend of mine, Jung,” Himchan said, raising one of his perfect eyebrows. “Funnily enough, you even share the same last name.”

 

Jung’s grip tightened on Himchan’s hand, his eyes flashing for a moment. “Is that so?”

 

Himchan seemed unfazed, only nodding once and flashing a charming smile. “He and his partner are coming for dinner tonight, if you two would like to join us?” Junhong and Youngjae didn’t bother to hide their surprise at the invitation. Immediately, both looked to Jung to see his response.

 

“Regretfully, I’m going to have to decline,” Jung said softly. Himchan looked about to protest, but he continued on before anything else could be said. “I’ve a company dinner tonight. Youngjae, however, is free for the evening. The choice is his. I don’t much mind whether he goes or stays.”

 

Himchan looked to Youngjae, who tensed under the attention. He shifted in his chair and swallowed, looking to Jung. The two seemed to hold a silent conversation with their eyes before Youngjae looked back to Himchan and Junhong and nodded. “I’ll come,” he said cautiously.

 

Himchan broke into a huge grin and leaned forward to place a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder, ignoring the youngers’ scowl. “Great!” he chirped. “Seven o’clock, okay? I’m just on the floor below, apartment 628! You’ll have fun, I promise!”

 

Youngjae rolled his eyes and shrugged off Himchan’s hand. “Yeah, I’m sure I will,” he muttered. He huffed when he felt Jongup lean against the back of his chair, pushing it forward slightly.

 

“We’ll leave you to get settled now,” Junhong said, backing toward the door. “If you need help, don’t hesitate to call! See you tonight Youngjae! Good luck at your dinner Jung!”

 

The door had hardly clicked closed when Jongup groaned and shook his head, falling forward to nuzzle his way into the crook of my neck. Youngjae winced at the feeling- his hair was still wet, after all- but allowed him to do so, knowing he needed the comfort in that moment. After a few minutes of stillness, Jongup rose again and rubbed at his face.

 

“I’m going to get dressed and run some errands,” he whispered. “We’ll need phones and I need a new whetstone. Is there anything you need while I’m out?”

 

Youngjae hummed. “Hot chocolate,” he said, turning to face Jongup with a light smile. “I didn’t see any in the kitchen. Mini marshmallows, too.” Jongup chuckled and peeked through his fingers, nodding once before heading back into his room. He emerged only a few moments later in a white wife-beater and a leather jacket, adjusting a black mask on his face.

 

“I’ll be back!” he called behind him as he stepped into the hall. He paused to make sure the door was locked before turning and beginning to walk toward the elevator.

 

“Jung?” Jongup paused and glanced over his shoulder. Catching sight of Junhong hurrying after him, he rolled his eyes and continued on, not bothering to slow his pace. “Jung! Hey- Jung!” Junhong caught up and reached up to place a hand on Jongup’s shoulder to get his attention, but something made him pause. Instead, he moved to walk at his side. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

 

Jongup rolled his eyes. “Errands,” he said shortly. He reached the elevator and pressed the button a bit too aggressively, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

 

“What kind of errands? If you don’t know your way around, maybe I can help?”

 

Jongup grit his teeth in annoyance. The damn kid looked so hopeful, his eyes shining as he looked at the elder. “I’ll be fine. I don’t have much to do, anyways.” In a heartbeat, the shine in Junhong’s eyes dimmed and a pout reached his lips.

 

“Oh. Okay, then.” A few moments passed in golden silence, during which time the elevator finally reached their floor. Jongup stepped through the doors as they slid open, but sighed when Junhong followed him in. “Do you know where to find everything you need?”

 

“Can’t you take a hint?” Jongup whipped around and glared at Junhong, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his stance. Junhong’s eyes widened comically.

 

“Sorry, I just-”

 

“Just what? Did you think we’d be _friends?”_ Jongup snorted and tossed his head. “What makes you think I need friends? I get enough pestering from Youngjae. I don’t need more people added to the mix.” The elevator doors slid shut with a small ding before it began to move downward.

 

Junhong frowned slightly. “I’d _hoped_ we could be,” he said quietly. “I don’t understand. You don’t know me, yet you’ve decided that you don’t like me. Same with Himchan. Why is that?”

 

Jongup rolled his eyes and growled lowly. “I can’t explain something to someone who wouldn’t understand anyways,” he snapped. Junhong seemed ready to protest, so he barreled onward before he could. “My personal life will remain personal. My secrets will remain secret. My past will remain in the past.”

 

Junhong fell silent, staring at Jongup with wide eyes. “I don't-”

 

“Look, Junhong.” Jongup sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You seem like a nice kid. Trust me when I say that you don't want to get mixed up with the kind of person I am. If you want to spend time with Youngjae then fine, but stay away from me.”

 

The doors to the elevator slid open once more, revealing the nearly empty lobby. Jongup stepped out quickly and made his way to the front desk. He slapped his new keys down in front of the valet boy and snapped out his apartment number.

 

“Jung, wait!”

 

Jongup grumbled and turned to face the other boy. “What now?” he sighed.

 

Junhong pouted slightly. “You said your past will stay in your past, right?” When Jongup only rose an eyebrow and looked at him, he continued on. “Well, why can't we all be a part of your future? It can't be easy to move to a new city with only one friend. We can help you out! We can keep you guys company and be friends to you!” His eyes shone with hope as he looked at Jongup. “What do you say?”

 

Jongup huffed, but his gaze softened considerably, almost appearing kind. “What do I have to do to convince you that being around someone like me will only get you in trouble?”

 

Junhong shook his head stubbornly. “You can't do anything,” he said shortly. Jongup sighed and seemed to consider something. The rumble of an engine interrupted before anything more could be said. With a quiet thank you, Jongup swung his leg over the sleek black motorcycle and picked up the matching helmet, holding it in silence for several moments.

 

“I came here for a new start,” he said finally. “I've left behind everything I’ve ever known without looking back. I moved here, knowing full well that I could run into pieces of my past that I would much rather forget.” He looked up, and Junhong blinked at the raw pain and anger in his gaze. “Little did I expect one of those pieces to be my new neighbor. I don't want a friend who only reminds me of all the shit I came here to leave. I _especially_ don't want to be friends with the ones who caused all of it.” He paused and took a deep breath, shifting his grip on the helmet. “If leaving my past behind me means I can't make friends with my neighbor, so be it.” His expression suddenly hardened as he looked at Junhong. “For your own safety and the safety of your friends- Daehyun especially- you need to stay far, _far_ away from me. Got that?” He slipped the helmet on, and though Junhong couldn't see his face any longer, he could feel the intense gaze still fixed on him. It was all Junhong could do to nod dumbly before Jongup took off on his bike, his grip on the handles tight enough to hurt. He hardly noticed the ache however, his mind so fogged with emotion that all tangible sensation simply brushing past him.

 

It didn't take long for him to reach the supermarket and park. As he stepped through the front door, Jongup ran his fingers through his hair and looked around. He immediately made for the produce section, grabbing a hand basket on the way. As soon as he reached the fruits, Jongup reached for a container of strawberries, setting the plastic box in the basket carefully so as not to bruise any of the red berries. Jongup added a few more things to his basket before heading into the aisles. After a bit of wandering around, he finally came to the aisle for warm drinks and turned down it. He paused in front of the hot chocolate and looked up at them thoughtfully. His eyes widened at all the options. He caught sight of their usual brand toward the top, but he refrained from taking it. The drink made from the packets of cocoa was often grainy and bitter. It had been a welcome distraction back in Dongpo, but Jongup was reluctant to get it again if there was something better. After several long, unproductive minutes of staring at the boxes, Jongup sighed and furrowed his brow, deciding to grab a random box and hope it worked out. Just as he was about to grab one from the shelf, a voice interrupted his train of thought.

 

“Here.” Jongup glanced to his right. A man he didn't immediately recognize stood there, a small smile on his face and a box of hot chocolate in his extended hand. “This is my partner's favorite brand.”

 

Jongup let his shoulders relax and took the box with a smile. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, dropping into a small bow. “Who knew there were so many different kinds of cocoa?” he laughed. He rose again and grinned behind his mask.

 

The stranger chuckled and nodded. “Rather pointless, if you ask me,” he agreed. “If you don't mind my asking, where are you from? Your accent…”

 

“Oh.” Jongup blinked. He hadn't realized he had adopted the accent of his strange village. “My roommate and I just moved here from Dongpo. A small fishing village on the southern shores.”

 

The stranger nodded. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I hope you're finding everything to your liking here in Seoul.”

 

Jongup hummed an affirmative. “We are,” he said quietly. “Though I do miss the sound of the ocean. It's rather noisy in the city.”

 

At that, the stranger laughed. “A truer statement couldn’t be said.” He grinned brightly. “What's your name?”

 

Jongup froze, his mind in discord. After a moment, he relaxed again. “My name is Jung Jong-”

 

“Hyung? Who is this?”

 

Jongup froze at the familiar voice and whipped around, his eyes wide and fearful as he came face to face with another man. It took him only a moment to get his bearings back, and he snorted and brushed past the two man swiftly, his movements stiff and harsh. He ignored the confused call from behind him as he turned to head deeper into the store. He quickly retrieved a bag of mini marshmallows to put in the hot chocolate and moved to the checkouts. As he walked, he kept his gaze fixed on his feet, his vision slightly blurry and his ears ringing.

 

It took almost no time at all for him to make it back out to his bike and stash the groceries in the compartment beneath the seat. He swung himself up onto the seat and simply stood there for a moment, staring down at his helmet as he tried to calm his breathing. _Come on. You can’t panic now, wait until you get home!_ With a shake of his head, Jongup pulled on his helmet and started up the engine, taking off without another moment’s hesitation, and unaware of the pair of eyes locked on his form as he sped onto the streets.

 

After a few more stops, Jongup returned home. Youngjae greeted him from the living room as he stepped inside, and the younger boy chuckled and moved into the kitchen to deposit the groceries. He brought the strawberries and the new phones into the living room and sat beside Youngjae on the couch.

 

“Strawberries!” Youngjae reached over and snatched the carton, popping open the lid and pulling out one of the red fruits. He grinned and took a small bite off the tip, humming in appreciation at the flavor. Jongup laughed boisterously and swatted his hand away, taking the strawberries away and replacing them with the phone. Youngjae stared down at the device with wide eyes. “This must have been expensive,” he breathed.

 

Jongup shrugged. “We can afford them now,” he said casually. Youngjae nodded, and the two began to set the phones up for use.

 

By the time they’d finished, it was nearly time to leave for Himchan’s. Youngjae sighed and stood, walking shakily toward his room. “Go get ready,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you whenever you're done.”

 

Obediently, Jongup rose to his feet and stepped into his room, heading immediately for his closet. Opening the door, his gaze flicked along the rows of expensive clothing until he came to a sleek black suit in the back. He pulled it off the rack and grabbed a dark green tie to wear with it. As he began to get dressed, he thought. It was only the first day in Seoul, and it had already reached a level of chaotic that he could feel a stress migraine coming on. How had they managed to run into those figures of his past he had wished to avoid? Seoul had over twenty-six million people, and the four he had not wanted to see were the four that he had. Jongup finished putting on his suit and stood in front of the mirror in his room with gel on his fingers. He began to style his hair carefully, brushing it up and away from his face. Youngjae appeared at his door on his crutches and giggled. “Can I try something?”

 

Jongup snorted, his smile ever present, and stepped away from the mirror to approach his friend. “Why not?”

 

Youngjae grinned and approached the bed, perching on the end. “Grab the eyeliner on the bathroom counter,” he instructed.

 

Jongup rolled his eyes but listened, leaving the room and returning only a moment later with eyeliner in hand. “Why do we even have this?” he asked with a laugh.

 

Youngjae grinned sheepishly. “I brought it from Dongpo,” he said. “It makes me feel nice on a bad day. I’ll need more soon, though.” Jongup smiled softly and closed his eyes, allowing Youngjae to apply the makeup without a fuss. Once told he could open his eyes again, Youngjae giggled and slapped his thigh. “You look _edible,”_ he gushed.

 

Jongup laughed and shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said quietly. “But thanks, Youngjae-ah.”

 

The elder snorted and narrowed his eyes. “Yah! Show some respect to your hyung!” he hissed playfully. Ignoring Jongup’s whine, he glanced down at his new phone and sighed. “It’s past seven,” he said softly. “We should go.”

 

Jongup grumbled. “Let me get my knives. I’ll meet you at the door.” He rose to his feet and pulled on the mask that had come with the suit. It was made of a thick, soft material that was such a dark green it was nearly black, shimmering slightly in the light. He helped Youngjae to his feet and then made his way up to the gym, where he stopped in front of the array of blades and looked them all over for a few long moments. Picking up a few small and simple throwing knives, he tucked them away in various areas of his suit before reverently lifting a long, thin black knife. He tested the weight of it in his hand and smiled, slipping it up his sleeve and securing it in place with his cuff. Sufficiently armed, Jongup made his way downstairs and grabbed the keys off of the couch, opening the door for Youngjae before following him out. The two made it downstairs quickly, and soon they stood in front of Himchan’s door, readying themselves for the night ahead.

 

Youngjae knocked quietly and yelped when the door swung open almost immediately.

 

“Youngjae-hyung!” Junhong grinned brightly and stepped to the side. “Come in! We thought you weren’t coming!” His smile faltered a bit as he caught sight of the second figure. “Hello, Jung. Won’t you come in as well? Just for a few minutes?”

 

Jongup sighed. “I suppose I have a moment to spare,” he mumbled. Junhong brightened and ushered the two of them inside quickly.

 

“Come on! Everyone’s in the sitting room!”

 

Jongup kept a close eye on Youngjae as they made their way into the living room, and he froze in the doorway. Youngjae smiled sympathetically at him and allowed himself to be lead to the couch. He tapped the side of his jaw and Jongup rolled his eyes, but took off the mask.

 

“Guys! These are my new neighbors!” The three men in the room looked up, two with bright smiles and the third with an impassive expression. “This is Youngjae, and this is his roommate, Jung.” Himchan waved and cocked his head, sending a charming grin toward Jongup.

 

“Changed your mind about joining us, Jung? I made dinner myself.” He winked and rolled his shoulder back a bit, the light catching his features at all the right angles. One of the others gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his giggles as he eagerly awaited a reaction.

 

Clearly unimpressed, Jongup rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe. “No,” he said shortly. “Even if my dinner was cancelled, I’d have simply stayed home.” The air was suddenly tense and awkward, but Junhong came to the rescue quickly.

 

“Jung, Youngjae, meet my hyungs. This is Bang Yongguk and his boyfriend, Jung Daehyun,” he said, his gaze shifting between the four of them rapidly. Yongguk nodded and smiled at him, clearly remembering their encounter at the market, and Daehyun offered a cheerful greeting and an enthusiastic wave. “Jung, this is the friend Himchan mentioned earlier. The one he thought looked similar to you.”

 

Jung’s smile was strained as his gaze flicked to Daehyun. “I see,” he said quietly. Daehyun was looking at him curiously, not seeming to mind the cold gaze.

 

“So, Jung,” Himchan began. Immediately, Jongup’s gaze was on the elder, one brow quirked. “Do you mind if I ask what you do for work?”

 

Jongup tensed and clenched his fists. “I mind,” he said lowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. Daehyun flinched back into Yongguk’s arms, his smile dropping, and Junhong fumbled with his drink for a moment as he curled up in his corner of one of the couches. Himchan, however, seemed undeterred.

 

“What about family?”

 

The room went cold.

 

Youngjae was tense, staring at his hands with wide eyes, his breathing swift and ragged. Jongup’s face was stony, his eyes smoldering with rage. Even Himchan seemed to have realized he had said the wrong thing, pulling back and crossing his arms over his chest, his expression apologetic. Jongup’s hand twitched and Youngjae was glaring up at him in an instant.

 

“Don’t!” he snapped. “That’s not what you’re here for.” Jongup’s stare shifted, directed at his hyung. Unlike the others, Youngjae stood his ground, though his glare softened a bit. “Don’t do something you’ll regret later,” he said quietly. “And don’t you dare ruin a four-thousand dollar Armani suit. Go to work, Jung. Cool down before coming back, okay? I’ll be fine, I promise. These guys couldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

At that, Jongup snorted, although his posture relaxed and he nodded, pulling on his mask once more. “You’ll call me if something happens? If you need anything? Boss will understand if I have to leave.”

 

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “I’ll be _fine,”_ he said lightly. “Stop worrying about me! I won’t be calling. If push comes to shove I’ll whack them with my crutches.”

 

At that, Jongup laughed lightly and straightened. Reaching over to ruffle Youngjae’s hair, ignoring the other’s squawking, he sent the small group a quick, warning glare. “I’ll be going now.” He turned and left without another word, leaving the room resting in awkward silence.

 

A few moments passed before Himchan groaned dramatically and collapsed against the arm of the couch, pouting toward Youngjae. “Why are the hot ones always so _bad_ for me?” he whined.

 

“‘Cause you’ve got bad taste,” Daehyun snorted.  “Youngjae, is he always like that?”

 

Youngjae shrugged. “He has to be, sometimes,” he said casually. “It’s not really his fault, and he doesn’t like doing it. Usually he’s quite kind.”

 

Yongguk nodded. “He was very sweet when I ran into him at the market. Seemed a bit like a lost puppy.”

 

Youngjae laughed and shrugged. “Everything here is very new to us,” he said. “We’re not very secure in our position yet- Jung more so than I.”

 

Junhong furrowed his brow. “Position? Like, money? Or job?” When Youngjae only rose an eyebrow, Junhong went on. “You mentioned you moved here from Dongpo, and if I remember correctly, that’s one of the poorest settlements in the country. Unless you two and your parents had been saving up every penny since you were toddlers, there’s no way you could have afforded a Choi Penthouse overnight. Whatever ‘position’ you’re in, you have to have been secure in it for a few years, at least.”

 

“Is that so?” Youngjae’s voice was cold and flinty. “If there’s one thing you seem to be talented at, Junhong, it’s making inferences with minimal data. You’d make an _excellent_ lawyer.” Junhong flinched, and Yongguk had to cough lightly to hide his laughter. “Jon- _Jung_ has worked hard to get us to where we are. Only recently has that hard work begun to pay off. You don’t know who we are, where we come from, or what we’ve been through. Don’t let your stupid city-boy arrogance get in the way of your common sense.”

 

Junhong ducked his head, a flush painting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

Youngjae rolled his eyes and nodded, making a small sound of acknowledgment.

 

“Alright,” he said. “I’m setting some ground rules. Don’t take it personally, you saw what happened just now. These are for your own safety.” He looked around at the other four, making sure they were paying attention before pressing on. “First of all, I just want to clear something up. I don’t hate you. I think I’d actually like to get to know you guys. I don’t _trust_ you, but I don’t hate you, either.” Receiving nods and a few smiles, he carried on. “There are a few things we don’t talk about- Jung especially. Family is at the top of the list. Both of us have been hurt by the people closest to us. That’s all you need to know. We do _not_ talk about Jung’s work. His job is both mentally and physically taxing, and he doesn’t like to talk about it if he’s not clocked in. Don’t mention his- his scars, alright? I shouldn’t even be mentioning them to you guys, but I know Junhong and Himchan have seen some already. We come from one of the most crime-infested places in the country, and Jung has been completely selfless in making sure that I’ve been safe. If you see them, ignore them. Jung-” Youngjae cut off, blinking rapidly. The others remained silent, allowing him to gather his thoughts. After nearly a full minute of silence, the teen continued. “Jung has some… _issues…_ upstairs, if you know what I mean. There’s nothing wrong with him, technically, he just… I’m just trying to warn you guys. Sometimes… Sometimes he’s not… He’s not all there. He has two different personalities, I guess? You guys have had the… _unfortunate_ opportunity to meet his bad side. I think Yongguk saw a bit of his good side- the _real_ him- at the store today. I’m sorry for his behavior earlier. He gets dangerously unpredictable when he makes the switch to his bad side. He has a history of getting a bit violent if someone makes him angry, so you guys need to tread carefully. He’s never hit _me,_ of course, but he- Nevermind. Look, all I’m saying is that you guys- Especially you, Himchan, and you, Daehyun- need to be careful around him.”

 

“What? I haven’t done anything!” Himchan protested with a pout. Daehyun quickly chimed in his agreement, sinking further into Yongguk’s arms.

 

Youngjae held up a hand. “I know, I know,” he said. “Himchan, you’ve been annoying him a bit is all. Daehyun… You remind him of someone that… hurt him. Badly. I can’t… I can’t say anything more, just trust me, okay?” Himchan nodded once, his pout still present, and Daehyun followed suit. “Okay. Last thing, I promise. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, or at least I hope you have, Jung is a bit over-protective of me. When we’re in his presence it’s important that you don’t touch me very roughly, don’t speak to me disrespectfully, and don’t say anything that could be perceived as threatening. Otherwise it’ll be your head on a platter. Everyone understand?”

 

The moment he got agreement from everyone, Youngjae seemed to turn into a whole new person. Any previous animosity vanished, the tension melting out of his stiff form and an easy smile lighting his features. “So, um, tell me about yourselves.”

 

Himchan jumped to speak first, smiling brightly as he scooted a little closer to Youngjae on the couch. “Well, you already know my name is Kim Himchan. I’m twenty-four years old, and I work as a model during the day and a bartender at a nightclub on the weekends,” he said.  

 

Youngjae’s eyes sparked in interest and he leaned in a bit. “A model, huh? What’s that like?”

 

Himchan’s grin brightened. “Well…”


	3. New Job, New Life, Old Memories

Jongup slowly roared to a stop outside of the Golden Harvest Hotel, dropping his keys in the hands of the valet who approached him and taking small slip of paper he was given. With a curt nod, Jongup brushed past him and walked toward the door. 

 

“Good evening sir, will you be checking in with us today?” Jongup glanced to his left at the elderly man at the entrance desk. After hesitating only a moment, he sighed and moved toward him. 

 

“I need to get to the top floor dining room,” he said coolly. 

 

The man looked him over, his eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry sir,” he said in the same tone. “I’m afraid that room is reserved tonight.” 

 

Jongup rose a brow. “Is that so? No doubt, considering who my boss so happens to be,” he said quietly. “Now, unless you want this lobby to suddenly turn into the crime scene of the century, I suggest you let me get to dinner before Mato grows impatient.”

 

The old man sniffed disdainfully, though a small amount of fear sparked in his gaze. “I’ll need a name. If you’re not on the list, I can’t let you up.”

 

With a huff, Jongup leaned in close enough that only the old man could hear him when he spoke his name. The effect was immediate as his breath hitched and he fumbled with the papers in his hand, his pen falling to the floor with a clatter. 

 

“So sorry, sir,” he said in a rush. Hurriedly, he set down everything in his grip and straightened his suit jacket. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you straight up.” 

 

Jongup followed just behind the elder as they made their way to the top floor and toward a simple wooden door. A large, buff man stepped toward them, raising a hand. When Jongup made to simply step around him, the hand was placed on his shoulder. Within half a second, a glinting blade was pressed against the larger man’s throat. 

 

“Do  _ not _ touch me,” Jongup said lowly. 

 

The two stared each other down for several minutes, matching scowls on their faces. 

 

“Songhun, would you be so kind as to find why our guest is taking so long?”

 

A muffled voice came through the door, another following only a second later. Jongup’s keen ears picked up the footsteps approaching long before the door was opened, and so he was not surprised when it swung open.

 

The room had a large, long table is the middle of it. One half was filled with people, about ten or so, and the other half completely empty. At the head of the table sat a striking young woman, who seemed to be the only one unsurprised by the scene that was revealed. 

 

“Mr. Moon,” she said quietly. “It's good to see you.  _ Do _ come inside.”

 

Jongup narrowed his eyes at the guard and flipped the knife away, not missing the deep breath of relief he took the moment he was in the clear. Silently, he turned and stalked into the room. The woman gestured to the chair at her right, and Jongup sat quickly, ignoring the shocked expressions of the others at the table. Songhun sat directly across from him, smiling at him softly. 

 

“Welcome to dinner, Mr. Moon. I am Mato, and you already know Mr. Min Songhun.” Jongup dipped his head to the both of them. “These are some of our highest associates within the organization.” She went on to introduce the people seated around them, each person giving him a respectful nod, but failing to meet his eyes. Jongup let his gaze slide over each of them passively, his expression blank. 

 

“Mr. Moon here will be taking over Bang’s position.” 

 

A few shocked murmurs rose from the table, and a middle-aged man tentatively spoke up. “With all due respect, ma’am, I didn’t think the position was open.”

Mato rose a brow, eyeing the man from her place at the head of the table. “It wasn’t,” she said coolly. “However, Moon has proven his skill more in a week than Bang has in the fifteen years he worked with us. The position opened  _ for _ him. Bang has been… let go.”

No one argued, though some of the looks toward Jongup grew venomous. The kind of glance that would have sent a normal person scurrying home. 

Unfortunately for them, Jongup was no normal person.

“Moon.” Jongup nodded to show he was listening, but never removed his gaze from one of the men about halfway down the table, who met his eyes with a challenge. “All living and travel expenses will be covered by the Matoki, should you accept our offer. Any medical necessities will also be covered by us.”

Jongup, still without shifting his gaze, lifted a hand. “Does that include our... arrangement, as previously discussed?”

Mato nodded, watching the exchange between the two men with unabashed curiosity.  “Of course, of course,” she mumbled. “I hope you’ve found everything to your liking?”

Jongup nodded, tilting his head to better listen. “I have. It’ll take some getting used to, but that’s to be expected.” 

“You’ll take the position, then?”

“I thought that was implied when I dropped everything and moved here,” Jongup said, raising a brow. “Of course I’ll be taking the position.”

 

Mato laughed lightly and waved a hand. “Better to be sure, Moon.”  Abruptly, she shifted her gaze to the man down the table. “Mr. Won,” she called sweetly. “What, exactly, are you doing?” 

The man- Won- looked toward the head of the table, his eyes widening considerably at the sugar-sweet smile directed toward him. “Nothing, miss,” he stammered. 

Mato rose a brow and cocked her head curiously. “Oh?” She turned to Jongup instead. “Mr. Moon? Is anything the matter?” 

Jongup hummed and rose from his seat, undoing the cuff of his sleeve to allow his knife to fall into his palm. “I believe that Mr. Won is  _ attempting _ to sell us out, Ms. Mato,” he said coldly. 

 

Mato didn’t seem surprised, sighing slowly and flicking a wrist. “Well then, I suppose it’s time for you to secure your position with us,” she said softly. 

 

Won’s eyes widened, fear shining in their depths, and he scrambled to his feet, his chair falling backward with a bang. “No! No, wait, please! I can- I can explain!” 

 

Jongup sighed, long and low, as he slowly circled that table toward Won. He said nothing, but his mannerisms showed more threat than any words ever could. Won tried scrambling backwards, only to trip on the fallen chair and hit the floor.

 

A flash of light, the sound of a blade cutting through the air, and Won lay dead on the rug, his throat sliced open and a pool of blood steadily growing around him.

 

Jongup stepped back, ignoring the stunned expressions around the table, and knelt on a clean part of the floor, leaning forward and running his hand carefully along the front of Won’s suit. 

 

He stood again, and a wire rested in his hand, a tiny button lense on the end of it. With a click of his tongue, he lifted the camera up to eye level and crushed it between his fingers, allowing the small, splintered pieces of plastic to scatter on the ground. The microphone hidden behind Won’s ear was quickly destroyed in much the same way, and Jongup returned to his seat. 

 

Mato sighed and flicked her wrist toward Songhun, who then rose and left the room for only a few moments before coming back with a few more men in tow. He took a seat as the newcomers began to clean up the body, and the room fell into silence until everything was cleaned up and the men were gone. Only then did she speak.

 

“You did well,” she said, the corner of her lips quirking into what could have been a smile. “I believe you’ll fit right in here.”

 

~*x*O*x*~

 

Soft laughter echoed around the hall as Jongup stepped off the elevator. 

 

“Hyung, I’m surprised Haewon’s not killed you yet,” he said lightly. “I don’t know how she hasn’t left you, at least, with you acting like that.” 

 

An older man gasped dramatically and placed his hand over his heart. “You  _ wound _ me, Jongup!” he whined. “However could you be so cr-” He cut off with a cough as a sharp elbow slammed into his stomach and stumbled to a stop, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to get his breath back. 

 

“Stop being annoying, hyung,” Jongup muttered, lifting his fist to knock on the door in front of him. There was no reply for several moments, and the elder man threw himself forward and looped his arms around Jongup’s neck, hanging limply over his back and whining wordlessly. 

 

Himchan opened the door, and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight. “Jung, you’re back,” he said curiously, peering at the other man. 

 

Jongup snorted. “Unfortunately,” he said. “Is Youngjae still here?”

 

Himchan nodded and stepped to the side. “Please, come in,” he said slowly. Jongup nodded once and stepped into the home, hardly hindered by the deadweight hanging from his shoulders. They reached the living room quickly, and Jongup stood in the entrance and watched silently for several moments, a small smile growing on his face as he watched Youngjae laugh and wave his hands emphatically, regaling the group with a story from his childhood.

 

Himchan stepped into the living room and sat on the couch again. “Jung is here, Youngjae-ah.” He gestured toward where Jongup stood. 

 

Youngjae turned to face him, only for his brow to furrow at the sight of the other man. “Songhun-hyung?” he asked quietly, his tone obviously confused. “What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”

 

Songhun visibly perked up at the sound of Youngjae’s voice, and he jumped back to his feet and rushed over to sit beside the man. “I needed to make sure my new boss’s house was adequate, of course!” he chirped, flashing a bright grin. “Wouldn’t want him living in some dump now, do we?” 

 

At that, both Jongup and Youngjae laughed, and Daehyun and Himchan both seemed surprised at the sound, staring at Jongup with wide eyes. 

 

Youngjae smacked Songhun’s shoulder, still laughing heartily. “Okay, hyung. Whatever you say,” he said lightly. 

 

Songhun looked around, his eyes bright and curious. “So, are you going to introduce me?” he asked expectantly, looking up at Jongup.

 

With a heavy sigh, the youngest waved a hand. “Songhun-hyung, this is Kim HImchan, Choi Junhong, Bang Yongguk, and Jung Daehyun,” he said. “All of you, this is my hyung, Min Songhun.”

 

Songhun let out a small sound and regarded Yongguk and Daehyun. “Jung Daehyun, you say?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the snickering coming from Youngjae. Daehyun himself cocked his head curiously. “The resemblance really is uncanny! And Bang Yongguk! I  _ do _ believe I know a relative of yours!” Both of the men glanced at each other, but only Daehyun seemed to want to know more, though he wisely held his tongue. 

 

“Youngjae-hyung,” Jongup called, raising a brow at the elder’s slightly annoyed look. “We have a busy day tomorrow. We should get home.” 

 

Youngjae pouted. “But we were having  _ fun, _ Jung-ah,” he whined. When Jongup only rolled his eyes, he huffed slightly and looked around at the others. Slowly, a mischievous smile stretched over his face. “This was a wonderful dinner, all of you. I’m sure Jung-ah would  _ love _ to repay the favor.”

 

Jongup glanced up sharply, his eyes narrowing, but Youngjae was steadfast in his determination, only raising an eyebrow at him and crossing his arms, as if  _ daring _ him to challenge his hyung. 

 

Songhun grinned. “Mr. Jung is free Tuesday,” he offered. Jongup and Youngjae turned to look at him curiously. 

 

“We’re watching your kids on Tuesday,” Jongup reminded, shaking his head. 

 

“Well, you’re working every night after that for weeks that I know of, so it has to be Tuesday,” Songhun said decisively. 

 

Jongup began to protest again, but Youngjae pressed on, completely ignoring his dongsaeng. “Great! So, are you all free Tuesday night?” A moment of silence, and then small murmurs of assent from around the room. 

 

“I have to work, so I’ll be leaving a bit early,” Yongguk said, sending an apologetic smile toward Youngjae, who waved it off. 

 

“Perfect! Jung is an excellent cook, I’m sure we’ll all have a wonderful time!” 

 

Youngjae sounded incredibly pleased with himself, Jongup noted bitterly. He glared over at the older man and was met with wide puppy eyes and a slight pout. 

 

“Please?” Youngjae begged. They looked at each other in silence for nearly a minute, Youngjae with his begging eyes and Jongup with his sharp glare.

 

Finally, Jongup let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine,” he relented. “Tuesday night, six o’clock. Don’t be late, and text Youngjae any allergies you have, since I’m assuming you all have his number now.” All four of the others, whom had surprisingly remained silent, nodded, and Jongup hummed in acknowledgement. 

 

Youngae moved to pull himself to his feet, gripping Songhun’s shoulder tightly, when the older man suddenly placed a hand on his thigh to hold him in place. “Let me help,” he said kindly, getting to his feet. 

 

“I don’t need it,” Youngjae grumbled, pulling himself up with the arm of the couch. He stood there, wobbling and holding onto the couch for several long moments before finally letting go and standing on his own. 

 

Songhun sighed and sent a long-suffering look at Jongup, who quirked a brow and cocked his head with a miniscule nod. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement, as Jongup reached behind him and pulled open the door and Songhun scooped Youngjae up and threw him over his shoulder with a boisterous laugh. Youngjae screeched and flailed in Songhun’s arms as the elder took off, pounding at his back with clenched fists and kicking wildly. 

 

“Let me go! Let me go!” 

 

He dissolved into breathless laughter and only held on for dear life as Songhun raced out the door with a battle cry, skidding slightly on the polished floors in the hallway. 

 

In the apartment, Jongup stepped forward and picked up his hyung’s belongings, a grin on his face and his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. His amusement only seemed to grow at the shocked laughter of the others in the room, and he straightened and sent them a quick nod as he turned and headed for the door. He paused in the door frame, his smile falling, and after a long moment of apparent inner turmoil, dropped into a short, stiff bow.

 

“Thank you for taking care of my hyung tonight,” he said softly. 

 

While the others only looked on in silence, Yongguk smiled and dipped his head. “Of course, Jung. You and Youngjae are welcome any time,” he said. Jongup nodded and straightened again, looking over the men. His gaze lingered a bit longer on Daehyun than the others, and some sort of deep, irreparable pain flashed in their depths before he winced and turned to speed out the door, closing it sharply behind him. 

 

Daehyun took a deep breath, his own eyes widening and darkening slightly. Yongguk’s thumb rubbed over the back of his hand comfortingly, and the younger relaxed into him. 

 

Junhong pouted. “What’s his problem?” he whined. He yelped when Himchan reached over and smacked him upside the head.

 

Yongguk turned just enough to look at him for a long moment before speaking. “He’s been through a lot, Junhong-ah,” he said. “Can’t you see that? Cut him some slack.” 

 

Before his sentence was even over, he’d turned back to facing the door, a sad, thoughtful frown on his face and his eyes glimmering with guilt and disappointment. 

 

_ I hoped we’d find you again one day, but never like this. _

 

~*x*O*x*~

 

_ Swish-thud. _

 

_ Swish-thud. _

 

_ Swish-thud. _

 

Jongup’s eyes glinted as he picked up another silver knife, throwing it across the room with all his might, where it stuck to the dead-center of another target, piercing straight through the frayed burlap. He sighed and stepped forward, pulling the knife out of the wood behind the target with a sharp tug. 

 

“Jongup-ah!” Youngjae’s voice rang through the home. “They’re here!”

 

Jongup glanced up, furrowing his brow. Without a word, he flipped the knife and set it down on the table, picking up a damp washcloth and slinging it around his bare neck as he moved downstairs. Youngjae sat in his wheelchair in the sitting room, waving at him. Songhun stood beside him, two women behind him. 

 

Jongup rose his hand in a casual hello. “Songhun-hyung, Ms. Mato.”

 

Mato smiled. “We’re off-duty, Jongup. Don’t call me that- You know better,” she said. She clapped a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. “That goes for you, too.” 

 

Youngjae grinned and nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, Suyung-noona,” he said brightly. 

 

Jongup shifted his gaze to the other woman, narrowing his eyes at her. “Who is this?” Something about her seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t seem to name her off the top of his head. 

 

“Jongup-ah,” she laughed. “You know me.” 

 

Jongup scowled and shifted his gaze to Songhun, knowing he was most likely to explain. “This is our resident…  _ stylist. _ Bang Natasha.” 

 

Shock spread through Jongup at the speed of light and he laughed, his entire demeanor changing in less than a moment. “Natasha-noona!” he said brightly. “It’s been so long! How are you?” He let himself get pulled into a hug by his elder, grinning into her shoulder as she pounded his back. 

 

“I’ve been doing well,” she said easily. “I’m a tattoo artist and production manager for the Matoki now, and I take care of the styles for the higher-ups, making sure you all fit in and such.” 

 

Jongup laughed and shook his head, pulling away to look at her. “You look fantastic,” he complimented. 

 

Natasha grinned and shrugged. “Thanks,” she said. “You look like you’re from Dongpo.” 

 

Jongup huffed and whacked her on the shoulder, causing her to stumble back a few steps, off-balance with her laughter. “Then do your job, noona!” he said playfully, his eyes twinkling. 

 

“I'm getting to it!” Natasha said, grinning. 

 

Jongup shook his head fondly. “Whatever you say, noona,” he chuckled. He froze when the woman reached out and snatched his chin, tilting his face this way and that. 

 

“Got it!” she chirped. “I know  _ just  _ what to do for you! You’re going to take a while, though, so Youngjae’s up first!” She let go of his face with a quick pat to his cheek and moved to Youngjae, beginning to give him the same treatment. 

 

“Jongup-ssi.” 

 

Jongup looked up at Songhun and Suyung, an eyebrow quirked and his gaze questioning. “Yes?”

 

“I believe it’s time we discussed the specifics of your work with us? Sit down.” Jongup nodded, and the three of them sat on the couches, facing each other. “Your work in Dongpo was exemplary,” Suyung began, “but it was only the beginning for you. You caught our eye and you got the job, now it’s time to test you.”

 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a neat manilla envelope, handing it to him. Jongup opened it carefully and pulled out the papers, starting to glance through them curiously. “This man, Lee Jaebum, is interfering with our work by insisting that the government do something about us. He is a wealthy and influential politician, and his words have already reached thousands of citizens, invoking rebellion and contention among the people of Seoul and our own workers.” She paused and looked him in the eyes, calm as she continued. “I want him dead.”

 

Jongup nodded, looking at a picture of the man. “And how would you like me to do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back up at her. 

 

“He’s holding a live press conference in three days time, which will be broadcasted to the majority of the city, if not the country. Take him out then.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “Make it bloody, make it public, and make it known that it is the Matoki who have killed him, and that we will not hesitate to do the same to anyone else who dares stand against us.” 

 

Jongup nodded thoughtfully, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Youngjae is good with computers. If we interrupt the broadcast right after I kill him, just for a moment, we can play a video loop of something. The Matoki symbol and a message, perhaps,” he mused. “I’ll need someone to put together some footage, and then Youngjae can remotely hack the systems.” He paused and looked up at his two elders. “Officers will be killed in the struggle,” he said. “There’s no way someone won’t try to stop me. I’ll have to kill them as well.”

 

Suyung raised a hand and waved it dismissively, and Songhun leaned back in his seat, a wicked grin growing on his face. “The more the merrier,” he said mischievously. Jongup shook his head and rolled his eyes at the words, but said nothing as he continued looking through the file. 

 

“You’ll be paid five hundred thousand per job, and you'll have an average of one per week, with the exception of the next few. Bang didn’t do a very good job, I’m afraid.”

 

Jongup rose an eyebrow. “What else will I have to do?” he asked. 

 

Suyung nodded and snapped her fingers. “Right,” she said. “When you’re not staking a target or on a specific mission, your main duties will be to oversee our operations in the main warehouse, weed out traitors, and get information from our rivals. Those targets will be provided by the twins, and you are permitted to do whatever you need to, to get what we need. Other than that, you will be asked to accompany me as a bodyguard on nights that I go out or have a meeting.”

 

Jongup hummed. “Is that all?” Suyung shook her head and gestured to Songhun, raising a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. 

 

“Right, ah,” Songhun leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees as he faced Jongup. “All of the higher-ups in the Matoki have alternate jobs. Suyung runs a company that makes custom weaponry for movies, as well as children’s toys and furniture. A wide range of product, I know.” He handed Jongup a slip of paper, on which an address and time was written. “You’re already signed onto her company as the weapons expert, but you’ll have a second job, as well. There’s a dance studio in downtown Seoul- one of the largest in the world- that’s looking for an advanced dance instructor. This is your interview time and place.”

 

Jongup’s eyes went wide and he looked up at both of them. “I- What?” 

 

Suyung smiled and reached out, taking Jongup’s hand in her own and giving it a squeeze. “Youngjae mentioned that you’d always hoped to be a dancer. We’re simply helping you reach that dream.”

 

Jongup opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, emotion welling inside him. “I don’t-  _ Thank you.” _ He smiled then- a large, genuine grin- and bowed as well as he could without leaving his seat. 

 

Suyung gave his hand one last pat before she let go and sat back, smiling softly at him. “Of course, Jongup-ah,” she said. “Anything for you. You’re our dongsaeng, now, and you have a new hyung and two noonas to take care of you.”

 

Jongup stared for a few moments, his eyes misty, completely still. “I don’t- I- I can’t-” He broke off and shook his head, a small sound escaping him and slow tears beginning to escape his eyes.

 

Suyung’s smile turned sad, and she stood and made her way over to him, lowering herself to sit beside him and wrapping an arm over his shoulders. “We can be your family now,” she said softly. She sent Youngjae a questioning glance, took note of the word he mouthed to her, and turned back to Jongup. “We won’t leave you, Uppie. Not like he did. We’re here for you, now.” 

 

Jongup let out a small, choked sound and sent her such a miserable, wounded look that she forcefully pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly against her chest in the most motherly hug she could give, murmuring soft words of comfort into his hair. On his other side, Songhun reached over and softly ran a hand up and down his back.

 

It wasn’t until Youngjae stood and joined the group, nearly thirty minutes later, that Jongup had calmed enough to return to his normal self, smiling softly at Suyung and Songhun, his eyes brighter than they’d been in years. 

 

He laughed slightly as he caught sight of Youngjae and reached over to play with his hair, which had a new neat cut and was dyed a soft, lighter shade of brown. Youngjae smiled softly. “You like it, Uppie?” 

 

Jongup smiled and leaned forward to press his forehead to Youngjae’s shoulder, humming. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It looks nice on you, hyung.”

 

Youngjae chuckled and patted Jongup’s head, pushing him back enough to look him in the eye. “Then why don’t we take a seat so Natasha-noona can do yours, too?” Jongup nodded and stood, making his way over to Natasha and taking a seat in front of her. 

 

“You ready, Uppie?”

 

“Ready, noona.”

 

~*x*O*x*~

 

“Jung Jongup looking for a Mister Shen?”

 

The woman at the front desk looked up, smiling at the young man before her. “Good afternoon,” she said. “Mister Shen has been eagerly awaiting you. Down the hall, last room on the left.”

 

Jongup dipped his head in thanks and headed off down the hall, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around in interest. He stopped outside of a glass door and watched a class for a moment before carrying on. When he knocked on Shen’s door, he heard a booming voice invite him in, and he stepped inside quickly, shutting the door once more. 

 

“Jongup, correct?” Shen held out his hand for Jongup to shake, which he did quickly and with a small, semi-shy smile. 

 

“Correct,” he said quietly, bowing slightly. 

 

Shen waved his hands. “There’s no need for that, now,” he said with a laugh. “We’re very informal here. Take a seat, Jongup.”

 

Obediently, Jongup sat, folding his hands and placing them in his lap. He sent a cursory glance around the room. 

 

“So.” Shen pulled a few papers toward himself on his desk. “You’re Mato’s newest dog, hm? Needed a place to work?” 

 

Jongup leaned forward on his knees, still smiling softly. “I’m not a dog,” he said quietly. “Tiger would be more accurate.” 

 

Shen rose an eyebrow. “I see,” he said. “Yet you still need a job.”

 

Jongup shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I have a job already. And a better paying one, at that. Dancing is more of a… hobby. A passion.”

 

Shen sent him a long, assessing look. “How often would you be able to work?” he asked. “I’m signing you on as an advanced instructor, which means you’ll have more hours than the others.”

 

“I work every night from ten to somewhere between six and eight in the morning. I sleep from the moment I get home to as late as two in the afternoon. Anytime from two to ten is fine,” Jongup said. He paused and cocked his head. “I do have a… disability, that makes social jobs rather difficult for me, so there will be days when I’m off or… not myself.”

 

Shen watched him thoughtfully for a few moments before sighing and standing up. “Fair enough, I suppose,” he said. He stepped around the desk and held out a hand. 

 

“Welcome to the team, Jongup.” 


	4. It Runs In the Family

Moon smiled as he took a glass of champagne from one of the women walking around with trays full of food and drink. He took a long sip and nodded slightly, humming at the taste.

 

_ “Enjoying yourself?” _

 

Moon rolled his eyes, a wry smile twisting at his lips. “Thoroughly,” he said. “Though there will be more time to enjoy myself when this is all over.” He looked around the room, assessing the layout and the people crowding the floor. He turned slightly when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder and came face-to-face with a young woman in a flattering lilac gown, with small silver roses glinting in her delicately done hair.

 

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “My name is Min Jinae. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new?”

 

Moon smiled slightly and bowed in respect, pulling his mask off of his face and holding out his hand for her to shake. “My name is Jung Jongup,” he said. “I’m here to represent LeeYung Enterprises.” 

 

Jinae smiled. “That explains it,” she said. “You’re the new hire, aren’t you?” 

 

Moon rose a brow and nodded. “That I am,” he confirmed. “This is my first event, so I’m a bit lost as to what I’m supposed to do.” He grinned crookedly and tipped his champagne glass.

 

Jinae laughed and batted her eyes at him, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. “I’d be happy to show you the ropes,” she purred, winking up at him. 

 

Moon’s smile turned a bit tense, and his eyes hardened. “I think I’ll be fine, Jinae-noona,” he said simply. “I should mingle. Have a good day.” He turned and began walking away, ignoring her pout behind him. 

 

_ “No need to be so rude to the poor girl. She was quite pretty.” _

 

Moon snorted, dipping his head to another man as he passed. “Shut up, Youngjae,” he muttered. His best friends laughter sounded through his earpiece, and he shook his head and walked on, making his way to the back of the crowd just as Lee Jaebum took the stand at the head of the room. Immediately, everyone fell silent and turned to listen as he began his speech. 

 

_ “In the back right corner of the room, there’s a door in a blind spot of the security cameras. It should lead into a hall, and I can get you easily to your bag from there. I’ll start looping the cameras.” _

 

Moon slipped through the aforementioned door and into the hall, his gaze flicking around the dark corners to make sure he was completely alone. The hall was narrow and full of stairs, and the lights were dim, leading him to believe that it was the maintenance hall he’d noticed in the map of the building he’d studied.

 

_ “Take the first left up ahead.” _

 

Moon followed Youngjae’s instructions until he’d made it to where he’d left his bag, and he quickly pulled it open and shut himself in an empty supply closet. 

 

When he emerged again, not five minutes later, he’d ditched the fancy tuxedo in favor of a leather jacket and black gloves, jeans, and boots. He paused in the hall, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, and slipped on his forest green mask. The mask itself was made of hard green kevlar and fitted to his face exactly, with the inside padded with soft black fabric. A small speaker rested in the black line down the center, and it worked to change his voice just enough so that it was unrecognizable. Moon took a moment to connect his com to his mask and make sure the speaker itself was off before he started back down the hall. 

 

_ “Come in!” _ Youngjae called suddenly. _ “Oh! Daehyun! What are you doing here?” _

 

Moon narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

 

Youngjae cleared his throat on the other end of the line, but didn’t answer for a few moments, only making a few prompting sounds. Another voice was barely audible, though Moon couldn’t understand it.  _ “Sorry, Daehyun. Jung is actually at work right now, but I have him on the phone.” _ Another inaudible comment.  _ “Yeah, sure. Hey, Jung, Daehyun is wondering when you’ll be home. He wanted to ask you something.” _

 

Moon scoffed as he made his way down the hall. “He can wait until dinner tonight,” he said shortly. “It’ll be at least a few hours until I make it home, pending the police investigation.” He reached up and adjusted the volume on his com so he could hear Daehyun’s comments.

 

_ “He won’t be home for a few hours,”  _ Youngjae said quickly.  _ “He’s at some political banquet thing to represent his company. It’ll probably be somewhere between four and five when he gets home. But he’s going to be really tired, too, and he’s the one making dinner tonight.” _

 

_ “Oh… That’s alright, then. I guess I can ask him tonight. Would you mind company? Everyone else is busy and I have the day off, so I’m feeling pretty lonely.” _ Moon could practically hear the older man’s nervous smile as he silently ran up a small flight of stairs. 

 

_ “No, no I don’t mind at all!” _ Meaningless chatter starts on the other end of the com and Moon sighed as he stashed his bag in a dark, hidden corner and pulled out a few of his favorite knives. He slid through the railing on one of the catwalks and onto a thin bar that lined up perfectly with the stand, walking along it easily. He dropped into a crouch and surveyed the crowd for a few moments. 

 

“Youngjae,” he snapped. 

 

_ “And that’s when- Oh, right. What’s up?” _

 

“Thanks for paying attention,” Moon grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

 

_ “Don’t give me that attitude, you little shit. What do you want?” _

 

Moon snorted. “A way out, maybe?”

 

Youngjae was quiet for a few moments.  _ “Yeah, I guess that might be helpful, huh? Sorry.”  _ There were a few more moments of silence before Youngjae sighed.  _ “It looks like the way you got there is your best bet. I can’t really send you directions, but I can give them to you?” _

 

Moon muttered an affirmative and listened as Youngjae gave discreet directions, keenly aware of Daehyun listening in the background.  _ “Oh yeah! We can see you, too! We’re watching the banquet on the news! Daehyun wants to see, but it looks boring.” _

 

Moon snorted. “It’s about to be a lot less, don’t you worry.”

 

_ “He says it is! The food’s good though.”  _ Youngjae and Daehyun laughed on the other side of the line and began to chatter again about the banquet they were watching. Moon fell silent for a few moments, taking a few deep, steadying breaths. When his eyes opened again they were hard and determined. He reached up and flipped on the speaker in his mask, and then stepped forward and off the bar. 

 

He fell fast and hard, landing on a guard and using him as a springboard to get behind Lee. Before anyone in the room had time to blink, two blades were pressed to Lee’s throat. Silence fell over the room and Lee let out a choked gasp, beginning to tremble beneath Moon’s touch. Moon narrowed his eyes, looking over the crowd silently, making no move even as the guards remaining on the stand cocked their guns and aimed. 

 

_ “Oh my God.” _ Daehyun’s voice came through his ear piece, and he heard Youngjae’s breath hitch. 

 

_ “J-Jung…”  _ His best friend played his part well, he’d certainly give him that.

 

“The Matoki send their regards,” he said simply. Horrified screams rang through the room as he ripped the blades through Lee’s throat and leaped away before any of the guards could shoot. 

 

_ “Jung! Get out of there!” _

 

Moon ignored Youngjae’s desperate pleading- it was all an act, anyway- in favor of tearing a gun from one of the guard’s hands and sweeping his legs out from under him, slamming his heavy boot into his head to knock him out once he was on the ground.  _ Three to go. _ He whipped around and shot without looking, hitting another guard in the stomach and sending him crumpling to the ground.  _ Two. _ He hit the ground and rolled when a heavy hit landed against his side, making his way smoothly to his feet. He faced the last two guards and cocked his head, not even bothering to try and conceal the move as he pulled two knives from his jacket and threw them, hitting both guards in the throat before they could even think to shoot. 

 

With the guards successfully disposed of, he turned to face the crowd, only to find that they’d all found their way out of the building. Relief filled him that he wouldn’t have to deal with any of them, but he found the reporter’s camera still on its stand and recording. Youngjae must have made sure they couldn’t switch from that feed. 

 

_ “He- he got out. Oh my god. Jung is- he’s safe, hyung! Jung, please come home! I need to- I need to know you’re safe!” _

 

Moon pulled his knives out of the bodies of the guards and stored them back in their proper places in his jacket, reaching up and turning off the speaker in his mask. “I can’t get out through the hall, officers will be here any second.”

 

_ “You were- you were against the wall the whole time? You’re sure? There’s no way for you to have even gotten hurt?” _

 

Moon looked to the wall and nodded once, sprinting toward it as the doors around the entire room burst open and officers flooded in. Shouts sounded from the men, but he didn’t allow himself to get distracted. He hit the wall and used his momentum to climb up it- one step, two steps, three- and grabbed onto a light fixture the moment he was high enough. Shots began to ring out, and he grunted as his leg was grazed, but didn’t allow it to deter him as he launched himself off the wall and grabbed hold of one of the chandeliers, immediately scurrying up the wire and into the bars on the ceiling. He made it up and ran back to the catwalk, snatching up his bag and continuing to run. In only seconds, he’d gotten to a back hall and flew down the flights of stairs until he’d made it to a window with a fire escape. He slid it open and slung himself outside, making his way swiftly and silently to the ground, though he had to jump from the second story. 

 

_ “Okay. Okay, good. I’ll see you soon, Jung.” _

 

The beep in his com alerted him to Youngjae having hung up, and Moon snorted at his absolute dedication to the act. They didn’t have to be  _ that _ careful around Daehyun, surely.

 

Moon ducked into a narrow alleyway and dropped his bag, changing into a simple outfit and jumping onto his bike. He cast one last glance toward the chaos outside of the building, pulled up his head, and took off down the streets.

 

~*x*O*x*~

 

Jongup slowly opened the door to the penthouse, brushing his hood off of his head and closing it quietly behind him, his head bowed low. 

 

“Jung-ah!”

 

Jongup glanced up and flinched when he saw the two men waiting diligently for him. Daehyun had leaped to his feet the moment the door opened, and Youngjae had turned on the couch. Both of them were pale, though Youngjae looked far more concerned and understanding. “Come here,” he said softly, holding out a hand. 

 

Jongup eyed Daehyun warily and skirted around the edge of the room until he got to Youngjae, when he wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend and buried his face in his hair, inhaling deeply. Youngjae handled him like fine china, murmuring soothing words and running his hand over his spine in a comforting way, trying to soothe the trembling boy. “How about you go take a shower, hmm? Calm down a little bit.” Jongup nodded slowly, and Youngjae pulled back with a smile. “Okay. Promise I won’t touch the stove without you.” Jongup nodded again, fidgeting with his fingers. He looked up at Daehyun nervously and opened his mouth as if to say something, only to snap it shut and shake his head, scurrying away. 

 

Youngjae sighed and relaxed into the couch, and both he and Daehyun remained silent until they heard the shower water running. Daehyun sat down slowly and curled up in the corner of the couch, obviously shaken. “Will he- will he be okay?” 

 

Youngjae glanced up. “Hm? Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it,” he said. He smiled, tight-lipped and strained. “Give him enough time to calm down and he’ll come back a whole new person.” He laughed slightly at his own joke, but Daehyun only blinked in confusion. 

 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I- Can I ask what happened to him? He- He seems prone to panic and I- I just want to avoid any triggers.”

 

Youngjae blinked in surprise. “How did you know he panics?”

 

Daehyun twisted his fingers and bit his lip nervously. “I just- He was obviously having an attack right now, and you knew exactly what to do and say to help him calm down, which implies that it happens a lot?” He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming a lot aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

 

Youngjae blinked. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “You were just making an observation, but I- I don’t think he’d like me talking about it without him.”

 

Daehyun nodded. “Sorry, I just- Is there any way I can make him more comfortable? I’d really like us all to be friends, since we already get along so well with you.”

 

Youngjae waved a hand. “I get it,” he assured. He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I don’t think I’m comfortable telling you much, but he had a… truly horrid childhood. And where I can easily say that, when my own was so bad,” he paused to gesture to his legs, sprawled limply on the couch, “then you know it was… something else. There’s not much you can do to avoid triggers, since I’ve known him to fully panic over something as small as slightly burning a piece of toast, and then be completely fine watching someone get murdered down the street. Maybe just… Don’t raise your voice at him, and be very careful with your words. He doesn’t like upsetting people, so if he thinks you’re angry at him, he’ll shut down completely. It’s hard to get him out of that state once he’s in it, so just… be careful about that. And never-  _ never- _ raise a hand against him. Don’t even  _ playfully pat _ his arm. If you even  _ move _ like you’re going to hit him, he’ll panic.” He suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes widening. “I meant to apologize for his behavior the other day!” he said. “He’s not usually that cold, I promise. He’s having a difficult time with the move, but he should be okay during dinner tonight. If he’s not, I’ll give him a talking-to.”

 

Daehyun blinked at all of the information, his face ghostly white and his expression confused. “No it’s- it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “We totally understand, Youngjae-ah, don’t worry about it. Thank you for telling me this.” 

 

They both looked up as Jongup stepped back into the room, his hair dripping and swimming in one of Youngjae’s bright yellow hoodies. He made his way into the kitchen in silence, limping only slightly, and lit the stove, pulling out the ingredients for japchae. “Songhun cancelled,” he said quietly. “His parents stopped by and took the kids instead. It’s just us tonight.”

 

Youngjae nodded as if no one had seen through the lie. “That sounds good, Jung-ah! The others will be here soon.”

 

Jongup hummed and fell silent, beginning to slice the vegetables swiftly and neatly in favor of talking. 

 

“Daehyun, you never told me what you do for a living,” Youngjae commented idly, content to start up small talk.

 

“Oh, right. I’m the main vocalist of a Kpop group called KNA. We got really popular once I came out, so I’m usually really busy with interviews and rehearsals, but we have a rare day off today,” Daehyun said. “I wanted to spend it with Yongguk, but his brother’s in town so he went out with him instead.”

 

Youngjae and Daehyun spent the rest of the time leading up to dinner conversing quietly about everything and nothing. The next to arrive was Himchan, still in full makeup and looking supremely hassled from his shoot. Junhong and Yongguk arrived together, and Yongguk immediately made his way over to the couch and dropped down next to Daehyun, greeting the others in his calm, slow way. 

 

Somehow, after dinner was served, the six got into a conversation about travelling. 

 

“My favorite shoot was Bali,” Himchan said with a nod and a smile. “It’s simply  _ beautiful _ there. And the weather is so nice!”

 

Daehyun nodded along. “It really is wonderful out there. The people are fantastic as well,” he agreed. “I really love London, though. There and New York are amazing.”

 

“Jung, Youngjae, where have you travelled?” Yongguk interrupted with a pointed look at his boyfriend before turning to look at the two friends again.

 

Youngjae screwed up his face in thought, but Jongup shook his head. “I’ve not travelled anywhere yet,” he said. 

 

“I once went to Pyeongchang when I was very young,” Youngjae said finally. “That’s it though. And it was for a funeral, so it wasn’t exactly a fun trip.” He paused for a moment to take another bite of his food. “Jung-ah is heading for Fukuoka next week, so he’ll be the most well-travelled of the two of us.”

 

“What for?” Himchan asked, looking toward Jongup curiously.

 

Jongup shook his head. “Just a business trip,” he said with a small smile. “Not much time for sightseeing, unfortunately.”

 

Junhong let out a small noise of amazement. “You must be really smart!” he complimented. “To be as young as you are and high up in a company enough for international business trips!”

 

Jongup shrugged, but said nothing. Youngjae scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He’s just being modest,” he said. “Jung-ah is-”

 

“Youngjae.” Jongup interrupted, his eyes cold and tone filled with warning, a stark contrast to only five seconds ago, when he had been warm and content. Junhong squeaked at the sudden change and stuffed more food in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak. 

 

Youngjae pouted. “What? Can’t I brag about my friend?” he asked. “We’ve got nothing else worth bragging about!”

 

“You know very well how I feel about bragging, Youngjae,” Jongup chided. “We don’t want them to know, and noona would get angry.”

 

“Hyo- Jung-ah,” Youngjae whined. “I just want them to know how great you are.”

 

Jongup rose a brow. “If they can’t do that without knowing my income then I want nothing to do with them anyway,” he said pointedly.

 

Youngjae snapped his jaws shut. “I  _ guess _ that makes sense,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna brag about it someday, though.”

 

Jongup’s nose scrunched as he laughed, leaving Daehyun stricken, though Jongup himself didn’t seem to notice as he folded his legs underneath him and bounced slightly in his seat. 

 

“Have you all enjoyed the food?” he asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to make japchae.”

 

Yongguk smiled, gesturing to his clean plate. “It was very good, Jung-ah,” he complimented. Everyone else let out similar words of agreement, and Jongup smiled brightly, pride lighting up his eyes. 

 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. He opened his mouth to continue on, but suddenly froze and seemed to sag slightly in his seat, his brows furrowing and mouth closing sharply. Daehyun looked on, worry blooming in his chest, but Youngjae gestured for him to stay quiet, and so he did. Jongup blinked rapidly, a few broken syllables escaping him as his eyes grew slightly cloudy. Suddenly, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and he shook his head sharply and looked around, his eyes widening with every person they passed until he fixed his gaze on Youngjae, who sent him a bright smile. 

 

“Hello!” he said cheerfully.

 

Daehyun furrowed his brow in confusion, but made no comment as Jongup sank back into the couch and pulled his knees to his chest, trembling. Youngjae slid over on the couch and pulled him against his chest, weaving his fingers into his hair and beginning to play with it. 

 

“Himchan-hyung,” he said, keeping his gaze on Jongup. “You mentioned something about a new shoot in America soon?” The change of subject was as obvious as Jongup’s sudden meekness, but no one said anything on it. Himchan launched into a long explanation of the shoot he was participating in while Youngjae quietly took care of Jongup. Soon enough, the room was filled with laughter and conversation again, and Jongup, still fidgeting nervously, had gathered all the dinner plates and shuffled into the kitchen to begin cleanup. 

 

Junhong suddenly looked up from his phone, his face ashen, and tapped Daehyun on the shoulder, turning his screen to face his hyung. 

 

_ Meet your new advanced teacher- Jung Jongup! _

 

Daehyun froze, staring at the screen with wide eyes.  _ I knew it. I knew it was him. _ His vision grew foggy from tears and he stood shakily, making his way into the kitchen. The conversation faltered in the living room and Youngjae leaned forward, his expression wary. 

 

“Daehyun…” he said warningly. 

 

Daehyun ignored him in favor of stopping only a few paces away from the teen at the sink, clenching and unclenching his fists with the tide of emotion rising inside him. 

 

“Jonguppie-ah?”


	5. Severed Ties

_ Meet your new advanced teacher- Jung Jongup! _

 

Daehyun froze, staring at the screen with wide eyes.  _ I knew it. I knew it was him. _ His vision grew foggy from tears and he stood shakily, making his way into the kitchen. The conversation faltered in the living room and Youngjae leaned forward, his expression wary. 

 

“Daehyun…” he said warningly. 

 

Daehyun ignored him in favor of stopping only a few paces away from the teen at the sink, clenching and unclenching his fists with the tide of emotion rising inside him. 

 

“Jonguppie-ah?”

 

There was a clatter as Jongup fumbled and dropped the mug he was washing into the sink. His eyes went wide and his breathing hitched as he began to panic, flashbacks playing in his mind. Instinctively and without any thought, he grabbed for the knife he’d just washed, clutching it with a white-knuckle grip while he tried to stay on his feet. 

 

“Jonguppie, I  _ knew _ it was you!”

 

Daehyun stepped forward with tears in his eyes and reached out to grab his brother’s shoulder, shaking.

 

“He’s got a  _ knife _ you idiot!” 

 

Youngjae leaped to his feet and jumped forward, grabbing Daehyun and pulling him away just as Jongup whipped around, slashing the knife through the air where Daehyun had been standing only moments ago, knocking a large bowl from the counter as he moved. Youngjae grunted as they hit the floor, shaking and porcelain white from the pain crashing over him in waves from his legs and back. Daehyun winced and pushed himself up into a sitting position, hissing as glass dug into his hands. He looked around, confused, and found Youngjae trembling on the ground next to him, looking as though he was about to throw up from pain, and Jongup curled up in a ball against the counters, a knife still held in his hands and bleeding from multiple small wounds all over his legs and feet, with a few small cuts on his arms. His eyes were wild and panicked, but clouded over as if he wasn’t really seeing. Yongguk was suddenly next to him, and Junhong and Himchan with Youngjae. 

 

Yongguk’s lips were drawn in a tight line. “Are you okay?” he asked tersely. Daehyun nodded, though he didn’t take his gaze off of Jongup. Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks as he watched his brother plead with someone who wasn’t there, sobbing and shielding his head with one of his arms.

 

“Jonguppie!” 

 

Youngjae dragged himself through the glass toward his friend, though he had to pause several times to push down his nausea from his pain. “Jonguppie, please- It’s just me. It’s Youngjae!”

 

Jongup, if possible, only began to shake harder, and he fixed his clouded, unfocused gaze on Youngjae with pure terror shining in his eyes. “D-Don’t- Please n-no-” he sobbed. “I-I’m s-sorry! I’ll- I’ll be g-good! I ca-can’t- P-ple-”

 

“Jonguppie-ah, please- please put down the knife.” Youngjae kept his voice as quiet and gentle as he possibly could as he spoke, and he slowly, slowly reached out to take the knife, whispering assurances constantly as he moved. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the knife and prised it from Jongup’s grip, throwing it out of reach the moment it was free. 

 

Jongup whimpered and flinched away from the noise, curling up even tighter. He tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged harshly, choking with the force of his sobs. “Please don’t leave,” he whined. “Don’t leave! I can’t- I c-can’t-” He broke off with a wordless wail, pounding a fist against his head. 

 

Youngjae’s eyes widened and he moved forward again. “Jongup, no! D-Don’t-!” Daehyun watched on in helpless horror as Jongup lashed out again, missing Youngjae by a hair’s width as he scrambled away, further cutting himself with the glass on the floor. He eventually wound up cornered, and he pulled his lip into his mouth and bit down hard enough for blood to start trickling from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was erratic and shallow, and his shaking continued to worsen the longer he panicked. He began to scratch at his arms, digging his blunt nails into the cuts marring his flesh and tearing them open more.

 

“Jongup!  _ No!” _ Youngjae shot across the floor as quickly as he could and grabbed one of Jongup’s arms, grunting with the effort of holding on as he was elbowed hard in the chest. “Yongguk!” he snapped over Jongup’s sobbing. Daehyun yelped as Yongguk suddenly let go of him and ran over to the struggling pair, taking hold of Jongup’s other arm and pulling it away so he couldn’t hurt himself anymore. “Himchan! On the desk in my room, there’s a blue inhaler! I need you to bring it to me quickly!” 

 

Himchan turned and ran away, reappearing only seconds later with the inhaler. Already seeming to know what to do, he knelt down among the shards of glass and leaned in, grabbing Jongup by the jaw and forcing his mouth open. The effects of the sedative were almost immediate, and Jongup began to relax and quiet, his thrashing stopping and his body going limp. Only when he was completely out, collapsed against Youngjae’s chest, did the boy allow himself to notice the tears streaming down his cheeks and the terror in his heart. He cradled Jongup against him carefully and buried his face in the younger’s hair, forcing himself to take deep, shaky breaths until he could speak again. 

 

“Junhong,” he said quietly. “Upstairs in the gym, in Jonguppie’s equipment shelf, there’s a large black box. Could you bring it to me?” After Junhong nodded and took off, Youngjae peeked up again. “Yongguk-hyung, Himchan-hyung, can you help get Jonguppie and I to the couch?” 

 

Yongguk nodded and leaned forward, easily scooping Jongup into his arms and picking his way through the glass to get to the living room again. Himchan helped hoist Youngjae to his feet and carried most of his weight as he helped guide him to the couch. Youngjae sat and instructed Yongguk to lay Jongup with his head in his lap, and then leaned against the back of the couch and began to focus on his breathing as Yongguk helped Daehyun to the other couch and kneeled down in front of him as Junhong came back downstairs, carrying the first aid kit in his arms. He set it down on the coffee table, opened it up, and dragged it within Youngjae’s reach. 

 

“Thank you,” Youngjae whispered. “Please tend to your injuries.” He reached over and pulled out a pair of tweezers, unwrapping them before gently turning Jongup’s arm to begin picking out the glass shards in his skin. The room was quiet and still for a few moments, and then Himchan shook his head. 

 

“Junhong and I are fine. Let us help,” he said. He gestured to the maknae, who immediately headed to the other side of the couch after grabbing another pair of tweezers and began to work on Jongup’s legs without asking for permission. Himchan knelt down in front of Youngjae and reached for his legs, his hands gentle as he took his calf in his hold. Still, Youngjae’s breath hitched and he yanked it back. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Just- Please just-” He didn’t even seem to know what he wanted to say, and cut off with a shake of his head. 

 

Himchan sighed. “Youngjae,” he said softly. “We need to get the glass out of your wounds, or they might get infected.” 

 

Youngjae shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he said stubbornly. 

 

Himchan was quiet for a few minutes longer, looking back at where Yongguk was helping Daehyun with his cut up hands. “I know you can,” he said gently, turning back to Youngjae. “But Jonguppie needs you right now, and we can’t leave the glass in there.”

 

Youngjae chewed his bottom lip, tears falling anew from his eyes, and kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on Jongup’s face. “Can you do it through the sweatpants?” he whimpered, though he already knew the answer. 

 

Himchan shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

 

Youngjae winced, but nodded slowly, immediately busying himself with picking small slivers of glass out of one of Jongup’s larger cuts instead of watching as Himchan gently pulled off his thick socks and rolled up his sweatpants, revealing the mass of scars covering his flesh. Even with only the small amount of Himchan’s face that he could see from his position, Youngjae could see him wince in sympathy and his eyes grow dark before he went for his cuts, gently poking and prodding at them. He heard Junhong’s sharp inhale, and Yongguk fixed his gaze on him. 

 

“What happened?” he asked firmly. 

 

Youngjae scowled at him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snarled. 

 

“Jongup has the same scars on his hands, Youngjae. I’m your  _ cousin, _ and I know nothing! What-”

 

“Yongguk,” Daehyun interrupted softly. When his partner turned to look at him, he only sent him a gentle smile and shook his head, but Yongguk grumbled and acquiesced. 

 

Jongup whimpered in his sleep and Youngjae winced, one of his hands coming up to cup his jaw and run his thumb gently over his cheekbone, shushing him quietly. Jongup leaned into the touch, quieting quickly, and Youngjae leaned over him to pull a needle and sterile thread from the kit, immediately setting about getting the needle ready for use. He began to stitch up the largest of the cuts on Jongup’s arms, his gaze dark and focused, though he winced every time Jongup let out a sound of pain. 

 

“How do you… How do you know how to take care of him so well?” Junhong asked hesitantly. His tone was half awed and half timid, as if he was scared of whatever answer he would receive. Youngjae paused mid-stitch, blinking rapidly. No point trying to hide it now, right? They probably already knew a lot from Daehyun.

 

“I was the one who had to patch him up every time he got the shit beat out of him,” he whispered. His breathing was shaky again, but he shook it off like excess water and leaned back into his work. 

 

The tension in the room grew, nearly becoming suffocating before the silence was shattered by a sob from Daehyun. 

 

“This is my fault,” he cried. “It’s  _ my fault!” _ Immediately, Yongguk lunged forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, whispering reassurances and promises that it was not, in fact, his fault. 

 

Youngjae, however, was nothing if not honest.

 

“You’re right. This is entirely your fault.”

 

His tone was flat and dry, his words blunt and scathing. Daehyun flinched as though he’d been hit, clutching at Yongguk’s shirt harder. Yongguk glared at Youngjae over his shoulder as the younger boy snipped the string for the last stitch and tucked the supplies away in the kit again, finally pulling out the bandages and setting about wrapping him up. Himchan was long since done with Youngjae’s legs, and he rolled down his pants again and helped him put his socks back on. 

 

“I should’ve gone back for him anyway! I should’ve- I should’ve fought harder!”

 

“Hyunnie, listen. Listen to me, jagiya.” Yongguk pulled back from the hug and took hold of Daehyun’s face, wiping his tears away until he’d calmed enough to listen. “This is  _ not _ your fault. Do you understand that? You did what you could. It’s not your fault.” 

 

Daehyun let out a choked cry and fell against Yongguk’s chest again, shaking horribly as tears raced down his cheeks. 

 

“Can I-” Youngjae took a deep breath, nodded his thanks to Junhong, and pulled Jongup up into his lap carefully, cradling the smaller man against his chest and carefully running his fingers over his features as he looked down at him. “Please just- just don’t leave again,” he said hoarsely. “You have no idea- no idea the  _ damage _ it did to him when you didn’t come back. You’re here now, so don’t leave again. He couldn’t handle it. It’d- It’d break him completely. I don’t think you know… what it’s like to watch someone you love lose hope like he did. To go from bearing black and blue bruises with a happy smile to… to dragging himself up to your room after being beaten half to death and just… just  _ sitting there. _ Completely still. He- ...I thought he was gonna die so many times, you know? And he just- He just didn’t care. Because death was better than being abandoned by the brother he’d idolized.” He looked up again, his eyes wide and hurt with a flame of protectiveness shining in their depths as he tightened his grip on Jongup’s limp form. “I don’t care what your reasoning is for not showing up again. I don’t care. The fact is that you didn’t come back, and that broke him so badly he can’t be put back together. And if you leave again, it would  _ destroy  _ him. He’s going to push you away. That’s what he does now. He’s going to push you away. He’s going to lash out. He’s going to yell. He’s going to cry. He might even hit you. But you  _ can’t _ leave. He has problems that are going to scare you. He has problems that are going to make you feel like the shittiest person on this Earth because you helped cause them when you left him behind. I can guarantee there will be times when you want to walk away and never look back. I’ve felt the same thing, so I won’t even blame you if that’s how you feel. But… You’ll have to remember how rewarding it is to watch him grow and get better and how good it feels to see him  _ really smile, _ and you’ll have to stick through it.” Youngjae was quiet for a long moment and then curled tighter around Jongup and pressed his lips firmly to his forehead, trembling. Tears began to stream down his cheeks again and he sobbed. “Please,” he whispered shakily. “He’s been through so much. Just give him this  _ one thing.” _

 

Daehyun, who’d fallen silent during Youngjae’s talking, nodded rapidly. “Of course,” he breathed. “I won’t leave him again. Not ever. I swear. I’ll talk to him every time I possibly can. I’ll even call every day when I’m abroad. I won’t leave him ever.”

 

Youngjae shut his eyes tightly, moving his lips up to rest in Jongup’s hair instead. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said quietly, “about telling you… Telling you everything. He’s not going to want to, but… I think I can convince him. If you’re going to help him get better, you need to know. You can’t judge him for anything, though. That’s the other thing. You can’t look at him differently. None of his… problems… are normal, but they’re not his fault at all and we’re already getting him the help he needs. If you look at him differently, he won’t trust you ever.”

 

Daehyun nodded and untangled himself from Yongguk’s hold, shuffling across the floor and sitting down in front of the couch. He lay his head on Jongup’s thigh and reached up to take hold of one of his hands, tangling their fingers together. “I won’t,” he promised. “I can’t promise I won’t feel bad, but I won’t look at him any different.” 

 

Youngjae nodded, eyeing him warily, but allowing him to stay in his place there. “Good,” he said. “I, um, I’m sorry for what happened. In the kitchen, I mean. I didn’t think he’d- I didn’t think he’d go into his head so much. He hasn’t had an attack anywhere near that bad in almost a month, so- so I thought he was getting better. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking, I- I’m sorry.”

 

Daehyun shook his head rapidly, rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of Jongup’s hand gently. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “You had no way of knowing that he would react this way. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to warn me.”

 

Youngjae chuckled. “Alright, then. We both messed up tonight,” he said. He looked to the rest of the group. Himchan was in the kitchen cleaning up, and Yongguk and Junhong were conversing quietly, their expressions urgent. “I- Would you all like to stay the night?” he asked quietly. At everyone’s surprised looks, he rushed on. “I just- I think it’d be good if he woke up and- and you were all still here? You don’t- You don’t have to obviously.”

 

Yongguk bit his lip. “I have to get going,” he said. “I have work in about an hour, and I won’t get back ‘til about eight tomorrow morning.”

 

Himchan nodded and flashed a bright smile back toward the living room. “I’d love to stay over!” he said cheerfully. “I’ll make breakfast!” Junhong swiftly chimed in with his agreement at the words, his eyes lighting up. Daehyun nodded along as well, though he said nothing as he carefully pressed his lips to Jongup’s palm. 

 

“I’ll stay,” he whispered.

 

~*x*O*x*~

 

It had been a week. A full week of Jongup’s avoiding Daehyun, and he was sick of it. He had left for Japan two days ago, and was scheduled to return that day, so Youngjae had arranged for another dinner with the whole group. Daehyun frowned as he stared down at his water bottle. He knew what Jongup was doing (Youngjae had been sure to explain it carefully) but if anything the knowledge only made his actions hurt worse. Why push away someone who’s love is all you want?

 

“Daehyun-hyung? Are you alright?”

 

Daehyun looked up at Beomsoo’s voice and slapped a smile on his face, though he was certain it looked forced and sick. “I’m fine, Beomsoo-ah!” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

 

Beomsoo looked as though he didn’t believe him for a second, but said nothing else as Kinam approached. “Should we run through one more time?” he asked. “We almost have it down, but Junsang is having a bit of trouble on the chorus and I think Changwoo-hyung is getting sick of him.” He grinned, his eyes shining with amusement. Once both boys had agreed, he led them over to the group again and they began to dance once more. 

 

No one paid any mind when the door opened halfway through the song, nor when four new men stepped inside. Only when they were finished with their dance did any of them bother to look over. Changwoo shook his head quietly and walked off to a far corner, sitting down with a huff and beginning to chug out of his water bottle, completely indifferent when Jaekuk skipped over and draped himself over his hyung’s back, whining pitifully into his ear. 

 

“Can I help you, officers?” 

 

Daehyun blinked and looked up again, his eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of his brother. “Jonguppie-ah!” he said happily, a genuine grin breaking over his face. The teen didn’t bother looking up from his phone, though he flicked a hand as if in a poor imitation of a wave. His voice caused the others to all look up curiously. 

 

“Jung Daehyun?” One officer asked. When Daehyun nodded with a chipper ‘that’s me!’, he nodded and gestured toward himself. “My name is Officer Park. We need you to come with us.” 

 

Daehyun hurriedly gulped down the rest of his water bottle and threw the empty bottle at a garbage can. “Okay!” he chirped. The officers began to lead the way out, and Daehyun turned and saluted his group. “See you all later, then!” 

 

“Bye, hyung!” Junsang called, waving excitedly. He was promptly tackled to the floor by a screeching Jaekuk. As Kinam let out a cry of alarm, Daehyun turned and ran after the officers, sliding into the back of their patrol car with Jongup, who looked none too happy with the arrangement. 

 

They made it to the precinct quickly, and were led into a cozy little room with several comfortable chairs and a couch in it. Jongup immediately made for an armchair in the corner, sitting down and crossing his arms. “Is Youngjae here?” he asked shortly. 

 

Officer Park nodded. “He’s making his way up now,” he assured. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable.”

 

Jongup nodded and leaned back in his chair, pulling out his phone once more and beginning to type again. Daehyun, however, found himself growing more and more nervous and unable to relax. He sat in a chair and curled up, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. It wasn’t long before Youngjae entered the room, still in his wheelchair from the week before. A young woman followed after him, a man after her, and they closed the doors as everyone got situated. 

 

“Jung Daehyun, Jung Jongup, and Yoo Youngjae?” she asked, looking between the three of them. All three nodded, and she carried on. “My name is Detective Khang, and this is my partner, Park. I regret to inform you that your father’s body was identified in Dongpo as of a few days ago.” 

 

Daehyun froze, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes widening. What had happened?

 

Luckily, Jongup seemed to have no problems still speaking. “What happened?” he asked. His voice sounded distant, too cold to be true. 

 

“He was murdered,” Park said simply. “He was killed by a bullet between the eyes, and his body was then dragged out into an empty lot and burned beyond recognition. DNA test results only just came back, which is why it’s taken so long to contact all of you.”

 

Daehyun took a deep, shaky breath and reached up to wipe tears off of his face. A quick glance to the other side of the room showed that both Jongup and Youngjae were silent and still, neither seeming to care too much, but not unaffected either. 

 

“We wanted to ask you all some questions, if you don’t mind?” Jongup nodded and flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes, returning his gaze to his feet and saying nothing. Khang turned to Daehyun first. “We saw in your records that you moved away from home the moment you turned eighteen,” she said. “Can I ask why that is? Most people wait a bit longer.”

 

Daehyun fidgeted in his seat, finding himself unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I-... I left because he was… he was abusive toward my brother and I,” he stuttered out. “I wanted Jonguppie to have a better life, but I knew I couldn’t take him with me, so I moved back to Seoul, into an apartment with my friends, and started looking around for work.”

 

Khang nodded in understanding and smiled gently at him. “But you didn’t find any?”

 

Daehyun shook his head. “We left for our military service as soon as we could,” he said quietly. “We wanted to get it out of the way so we could really give Jonguppie the best life he could have. We came back, and we all got jobs pretty quickly, but they didn’t have good pay, so we couldn’t do anything for a while.”

 

Khang hummed and leaned forward in her chair, flicking through the file in her hands. “It says here that you applied for custody of your brother twice. Is that correct?” Daehyun nodded, and he could see Jongup tense up out of the corner of his eye. “The first was denied on account of financial instability, but the second was never resolved?”

 

Daehyun nodded and took a deep breath. He looked up and locked gazes with Jongup, silently pleading with him to understand. “We- Yongguk-hyung and I, that is- applied three years after I left, but we weren’t able to take care of him, so the court denied it quickly. We applied again two years ago, but our father kept pushing off the court dates and refusing contact, so we couldn’t get everything settled before Jongup became legal.” Jongup narrowed his eyes and looked away, a pained expression coming over his face. Daehyun flinched as though he’d been struck and ducked his head again, tears falling from his eyes.

 

“Alright,” Khang said quietly. “And Youngjae? It says here that after your parents were killed, you moved in with Jongup and his father. Why is that, when you had an aunt who could have taken you in?”

 

Youngjae pursed his lips. “Jongup needed me, and I needed him,” he said shortly. “My aunt dropped all contact after my father was killed. Jongup was all I had left.”

 

“Didn’t you know about the abuse?” Khang asked. 

 

“Of course I did,” Youngjae scoffed. “That’s a large part of why I stayed.”

 

Khang nodded and made a note of something in her notepad as Park stepped out of the room again. “And you knew about his disorders?”

 

Jongup tensed and hung his head so low his chin was pressed to his chest. His eyes were wide and confused, fear lighting in them. Youngjae sent him a concerned glance and nodded. “I was- I was the one who pointed out something was wrong,” he said. “I brought it up with my mom and we figured out what it was that was going on. We managed to find a therapist who would help for a low price, and we worked on getting him the help that he needed.”

 

Khang nodded and took another note, looking back up after a moment. “Jongup?” She received no answer, as Jongup was muttering under his breath slowly and blinking rapidly, seemingly unable to hear her. “Jongup-ssi?” Khang called gently. Jongup’s breath hitched and he looked up again, pale and shaking. His eyes were wide and fearful, and it took only one look at his expression for Youngjae to let out a small sound and force his way into the chair next to him, tugging him down against his chest. 

 

“Jongup, what can you tell me about the night you left your father?” Khang asked, her voice quiet and soothing. Jongup only shook his head and clenched his fist in Youngjae’s shirt. Khang nodded slowly. “Can you tell me who was out that night?” she asked. Her pen was poised over her notepad as she waited for an answer.

 

Jongup was quiet for several long, tense moments. “J-Jung,” he finally stammered. 

 

Khang nodded slowly. “Alright. Who am I talking to now?” she asked. 

 

Jongup flinched. “Jong- Jongup,” he whispered. They all seemed oblivious to Daehyun, who was simply watching in confusion at that point. 

 

“Alright, Jongup-ssi. Can you please tell me what happened the night you left your father?” 

 

Jongup nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “My- My dad had made one of the- the gangs in the area angry when we first moved, b-but they didn’t do anything because- because they didn’t want to make Jung and Zhin angry. They heard that- that we were leaving and d-decided to come for him that night. We were leaving with Youngjae when- when they came. The second we heard them coming Jung got Youngjae into the car and we r-ran.”

 

Khang nodded again. “Is that all?” she asked. Jongup only nodded, his trembling growing ever worse the longer her gaze stayed on him. Khang sighed. “Thank you for your time,” she said quietly. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

 

She guided them back out of the precinct and to the car in the parking lot- Youngjae’s, Jongup recognized dimly as he climbed into the backseat. 

 

Before Youngjae could get in, however, Daehyun grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of earshot of his brother. “What the hell was that in there?” he hissed. “What’s going on, Youngjae?”

 

Youngjae froze and looked through the window of the car at Jongup, who had curled in on himself in the seat and was muttering under his breath, rocking slightly. He turned back to Daehyun and his eyes were sad and defeated. “Look, I-” He paused and swallowed hard, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair. “Just wait until we get back to the apartment okay? I need to take care of Jonguppie, and then I promise I’ll explain everything.”


End file.
